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THE 


WOMAN • OF • ICE. 


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ST. PAUL, MINN. 

The Price- McGill Publishing Co. 
1891 , 




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Copyrighted, ISC'I, R. H. Merriam. 




PRINTED AND PEATED BY 

PRICE, McOIIvI^ & CO., 
St, Paul, Minn. 


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The Woman of Ice. 

CHAPTER I. 

Henri Vandelle, who, from idleness, 
spent mueh of his time on the race 
courses in the environs of Paris, with- 
out thinking of hurting his fortune, 
committed the imprudence, in April, 
1875, of interesting himself in a certain 
3^ellow jacket with a black cap, whose 
victory seemed assured. One of his 
friends, advised by Robert Milton, 
showed a decided preference for another 
jockey, very little thought of, and a bet 
was made between ':hese two gentle- 
men, a most primitive bet, from which 
the question of money was barred — a 
dinner for ten persons, chosen by the 
winner, and to be given on the day and 
in the place most convenient to him. 

.6 


The yellow jacket with a black cap 
was soon overtaken, passed, then dis- 
tanced by the favorite of Robert Mil- 
ton, and Yandelle found himself doomed 
to pay his debt, that same evening, in 
his rooms on the rue Laffitte. He had 
to return quickly to Paris, and, thanks 
to the able chef at the cafe Riche, im- 
provised a dinner which he had not the 
time to prepare in his own home. 

About* half past seven the guests ar- 
rived. First of all, the winner of the 
bet, a well known journalist; A. M., 
one of those speculators who have one 
foot in the Temple, the other in the best 
salons, and on whom Dame Fortune, 
seduced by their savoir-vivre, their 
artistic taste, their Parisian gaiety, and, 
perhaps, by their fidelity to a fallen 
dynasty, never ceases to smile; Raynal, 
a rising lawyer, so intimate with the 
seated magistrates that one surmises 


6 


that he will not reach the bench ; X , 

who, having never done anything him- 
self, lived at the feet of great men, 
warmed himself in their rays, and 
thought that he shone. He is the 
friend of all the celebrities, the satel- 
lite of all the stars, the ardent admirer 
of all those who triumph. If he meets 
you in the foyer of a theater, he takes 
you aside and says : have just come 

from Alexandre; he read me his latest 
play; very good! very strong! Yic- 
torien told me about his eulogy on 
Autran; what language! Sarah con- 
fided to me her idea of her part in the 
new play ; astonishing woman ! it will 
be a great success ! I met Emile, Leon 
and Victor; they gave me their latest 
political opinions ; very good ; Europe 
has only to wait.^^ 

Vandelle knew all these gentlemen; 
he welcomed them and thanked his 


7 


friend, the journalist, for having selected 
them. “But,'^ said he, ‘‘we are not com- 
plete; you said there would be ten.^^ 
“Here are the tardy ones; they come 
in a crowd, from timidity, no doubt, 
answered the journalist. 

In fact, you could hear in the ante- 
chamber a murmur of voices, bursts of 
laughter, then light steps, the rustling 
of dresses, whose trains are being ar- 
ranged before entering, and the door 
of the salon opened to admit five 
pretty women, in evening toilettes. 
Vandelle frowned; he did not expect 
this feminine element in his private 
house; although he was a bachelor, 
the society that was imposed on him 
would, without doubt, weary him. 
But, to o well bred to show his discon- 
tent, too good a player to hesitate to 
pay his debts, he stepped forward to 


8 


meet the new arrivals and reeeived them 
in the most eourteous manner. 

To what elass of soeiety did these 
laches belong? Neither to the swells 
nor to the arts, nor to the middle 
class. Were they of the gallant world ? 
Perhaps. But which? That world 
has, like all others, its aristocrats 
and its lower class. In that world 
you salute queens, you jostle com- 
mon folks; as in politics, you meet 
some pure and many impure. A large 
and small business is carried >on ; whole- 
sale, fluctuating prices ; retail, from day 
to day, fixed prices. The guests of 
Vandelle turned their attention only to 
large transactions; they were of the 
large manufacturers, of the decorated. 
Were they therefore of that chevroned 
phalanx, so much in fashion under the 
Empire and whose exploits have been 
heard of all over the universe ? Are we 


9 


in the presence of A dele C., always se- 
ductive, in spite of the winters accumu- 
lated on her adorable head ; of her friend 
Fidelite, who, after becoming rich in the 
game of love, ruined herself during the 
summer at Luchon, during the winter 
at Monte-Carlo, at games of chance; 
of Cora P., celebrated for her sales, 
which were not exactly charity sales; 
of Caroline H., a setting sun, so success- 
ful that she was taken for the aurora 
of a beautiful morning? No, the guests 
of Vandelle had nothing in common 
with those whom a disrespectful dra- 
matic author nicknamed the ‘‘Old 
Guard.” Were they then of the “Young 
Guard ? ” It did n ot exist ; the survivors 
of the “Old” adopted no pupils, did not 
form a company of children ; the3" died 
as they had lived, unproductive, with- 
out descendants. All the great courte- 
sans of the Empire, those who have dis- 


10 


appeared like Barucci, Anna Deslions 
and so man3^ others, and those whohave 
survived their glory, had no school, no 
imitators. 

We do not mean to say that Paris 
has become a saintly city; but certain 
customs have entirely changed. They no 
longer show off so imprudently; they 
hold less place in the theatres, around 
the lake and at Longchamps. These 
women no longer unite to form a 
coterie^ with this devise: Hors de 

nouSy pas de salut.'^ Which means: 
“With us alone can you make; you 
pluck on a large scale. They no longer 
entertain among themselves, at din- 
ners, suppers, balls, baccarat parties, to 
observe each other, to disparage each 
other, to talk scandal, to pass, from 
hand to hand, their lovers, together 
to devour them; and until this was 


11 


accomplished they never allowed the 
victims to escape from their vicious circle. 

You no longer see them showing oflf 
in the feo/s, in carriages with eight 
springs, throwing plates from the win- 
dows of the cafe Anglais, occupying 
apartments costing twenty thousand 
francs rent and making a cynical parade 
of a luxury badly acquired. They live 
isolated, or two together, scorning their 
co-religionists, pretending not to know 
their names. They affect simple man- 
ners, prefering a coupon to a diamond 
necklace, go about on foot, wear simple 
dresses and they do not paint. It is above 
all, the fashion, among these women, to 
replace large, sumptuous apartments 
with a simple garconniere. The most of 
them make so little noise that you 
scarcely know them. If some one asks: 
‘‘Who are the fashionable cocottes; 
where do you meet the new generation; 


12 


by whom are our old ones replaced?” 
the most expert man about town could 
not answer; he looks in vain for a well 
known name. 

Yes, the great courtesans are dead, 
and the time is past when women will 
sing voluntarily: am a cocotte, a 

great cocotte.” They are still cocotteSy 
but they try to hide their cocotterie 
under an austere exterior. The bird has 
no longer a house of its own. They 
blush at their trade. The operatic thea- 
ters, so much in fashion, are their great 
benefactors; with a slender voice they 
go to the Renaissance, with a slender 
false voice to the FoHes-Dramatiques; 
they get into the chorus, and the game is 
pla^-ed; you see them, for the rest of 
their life, colleagues of Patti, of Nilson, 
or of Krauss. They write a novel; have 
it printed, and send it to some paper 
where they always find some admirer 


13 


of their beauty to praise their st3^1e and, 
from women of pleasure, they become 
women of letters. 

This general aspiration, and all for 
the honor of our epoch, toward an 
avowable trade, brings likewise other 
results : the true artist, formerly dis- 
dained by these women, or at least rele- 
gated to the background, considered as 
an object of luxury and always sacri- 
ficed to the financier, comes forth to live 
in the light. In speaking of him, the 
maid says: Monsieur is come, and 
you do not think of hiding him in the 
closet when the bell rings. It is true 
that the artist, the painter above all, 
has also made progress; he no longer 
wears his hair long; he has replaced the 
pipe with the cigarette, learns economy, 
points out in case of need the good 
things on the stock exchange, buys ob- 
jects of art on speculation, and when 


14 


he is in vogue, makes annually one or 
two hundred thousand francs. He merits 
therefore his place in the sun, then, fol- 
lowing the slang expression, despised 
rightly by the Academicans, he himself 
shines. 

And, since all Is connected together, 
she who is an artist and she who lives 
with an artist, thinks herself bound to 
live in a certain way. Her life is very 
regular; she arises at an early hour, 
practices hydropathy, takes care of her 
health, rides on horseback in deserted 
parts of the park, is always dressed be- 
fore noon, brings up often her own or 
an adopted child, goes out with a com- 
panion, and is conscientious in all this, 
for the time is past when we could say 
with Gavarni, “The man who can make 
women dreamy, can call himself a great 
person. 


15 


CHAPTER II. 


The five women invited to Vandelle’s 
dinner belonged to the modern gener- 
ation, to the new regime. They also 
stood high in the ranks of gallantry, 
but they were modest and did not wear 
ostentatiously the marks of their grade. 
One of them only had a well known 
name. This one was a remarkably 
beautiful woman — descended from Philip 
the Good and his mistress, Marie de 
Cambrugge, in honor of whom, and to 
immortalize whose beautiful red hair, he 
established the order of the Golden 

Fleece. Y , nicknamed la Pudeur 

memej because of her extremely innocent 
air (some good women said she was not 
so innocent), was graceful and slender, 
16 


her shoulders broad and well curved, 
the veins full, the hips symmetrical, 
and Francheschi, so they say, had 
her pose for his Isis. La Pudeur meme 
was an artist from instinct and from 
right. She had desired to obtain a place 
and she had acquired it, for she knew 
what she wanted ; on her fragile body 
was set a little but a very clear head. 
Her imagination was sometimes extrav- 
agant; but in her daily, domestic life, 
she was an orderly and almost a busi- 
ness woman. To-day she ownecT a 
country house as well as a city one; 
she wrote, painted on porcelain, and 
shot. Lais and Phryne would not have 
disowned her as their daughter; but 
perhaps she did not want them for 
mothers; she dreamed of resembling 
the Greek courtesans, only on the plastic 
and artistic sides, and her dream was 
realized. 


17 


We will designate her companions 
only by fantastic names ; Berthe, whom 
you would be compelled to call clever if, 
as they say, beauty is esprit du corps, 
Louise, with a charming head on a 
slender body; she had been nicknamed, 
in remembrance of la Guimard, the 
skeleton of the Graces. Juliette, able 
from long experience to keep between 
two ages, it was said of her: ^‘She 
plays at trente-et-quarante,^^ Last of 
all Blanche, an electric brunette whose 
heart resembled a mill : “ It beats and it 
turns. 


18 


CHAPTER III. 


They seated themselves at table in a 
room furnished with exquisite taste, in 
pure Louis XIII style. Numerous 
candles, fixed in candlesticks and some 
gold candelabras, artistically chased, 
lighted the table without blinding the 
guests. The wines of Vandelle, from 
his own cellar, one of the best in Paris, 
were plentiful and began to loosen the 
most discreet tongues, to excite vivid 
imaginations. 

‘‘No, gentlemen,’^ said Louise, “Ido 
not understand how men are base 
enough to attack honest women ; if they 
resist, they are honest; if they succumb, 
they are no longer honest and the men 
have lost their time.^^ 


10 


^‘You speak truly,” replied the jour- 
nalist; ‘Virtue has some good in it; it 
reposes. I am not sorry, from time to 
time, to make a little trip to the camp 
of good society myself.” 

“Yes, yes, we understand,” said V , 

‘ ‘ the object of your preferences is known. 
It is a society woman, to be sure, but 
one who has played with fire so often 
that you must admit she is now pretty 
well scorched.” 

X was about to reply when Berthe, 

to cut short the discussion, raised her 
glass, sa3dng: 

“To the health of our host, to the 
good dinner he gives us, to those that 
he intends to give us in the future.” 

“Above all, to the last,” added 
Blanche. 

“Permit me, ladies and gentlemen,” 
said Yandelle, smiling; “drink to the 


20 


past if the memory is pleasant, bnt do 
not commit yourselves for the future/’ 

‘‘You do not wish to invite us again?” 

cried V . “You make us cruelly 

aware that you are only paying a debt; 
if fortune had smiled on you today we 
should not have been here.” 

As Vandelle did not reply, they in- 
sisted that he should explain his remark. 
He hesitated some minutes, but, as they 
pressed him on all sides, he ended by 
saying that this dinner, in fact, would 
be the last which would be owed to his 
munificence. 

He made this av9wal with reluctance, 
and it was greeted from all sides of the 
table with exclamations. 

“The last! Why? How?” 

“ By what right ? He does not belong 
to himself, but to his friends.” 

“ Is he going to become a monk ? ” 

“ Has he lost his fortune ? ” 


21 


Is he going to become a more serious 
man ? 

‘‘ Have the factories of his father 
closed ? ” 

It is not that at all,’’ cried Blanche ; 
‘‘a horrible thought strikes me — Yan- 
delle is going to marry.” 

“He! it is impossible — he has no right 
to fool us.” 

“He is going to marry, I tell you; 
what can you expect from a man who 
hides his mistress ? ” 

‘ ‘ That is certainly true; we have never 
seen her.” 

“Look at him — he is blushing. He 
looks down; I have guessed it.” 

Blanche exaggerated ; Vandelle, thirty 
years old, Parisian to the core, a pro- 
fessed viveur, was not a man to be em- 
barrassed so easily. He hesitated to 
make known a determination which, 
perhaps, frightened and startled him, 


22 


and, in place of regarding all tlie women 
with the boldness with which they had 
never thought to reproach him, he half 
closed his eyes and appeared to collect 
his thoughts. At last he seemed to re- 
gain his composnre, and, leaning on the 
table, his face in his hands, he said : 

Well, yes, man is not perfect; I am 
going to marry.^^ 

Louise arose, -and, holding her glass, 
said: 

‘‘Ladies and gentlemen, you are in- 
vited to assist at the funeral, church 
service and interment of the youthful 
folly of Monsieur Henri Vandelle, who 
died instantly at the residence of the 
Mayor, provided with the marriage sac- 
rament. Drink to her ! ” 

“Let us drink to her,^^ repeated all the 
guests in a chorus. 

When the glasses were emptied, new 
questions were propounded : 

23 


‘‘Who are you going to marry 
asked Berthe. 

“ Is it a marriage for money ? 

“ Is it a love match ? ” 

“Is it the lady of whom we were 
speaking? ” 

Vandelle, having decided, without 
doubt, to keep quiet, lighted a cigar, 
and, arising, ordered the servant to 
serve the coffee. 



24 


CHAPTER IV. 


The conversation grew more general. 
The unity of the guests was broken 
They moved the chairs about, formed 
little groups around the ends of the 
table or in the corners of the dining 
room. Juliette and Eouise paired off 
with Raynal and said to him in a sup- 
pliant manner: 

You will give us tickets for the next 
trial, won’t you? We have never seen 
a criminal.’^ 

You will never see one, youngladies,” 
answered the lawyer in a grave voice. 

‘^Why?^^ 

‘^Because there are none.” 


25 


What ! there are no criminals ? What 
are you talking about ? 

The wines and liqueurs of Vandelle 
had affected Raynal; the glances of 
Juliette and Louise had shaken his equi- 
librium, and his next remarks showed 
the result. 

‘‘No, ladies, said he, “criminals are 
an invention of justice. It is because 
the judges have to live that culpable 
ones are found. Judges are not created 
because of criminals, but criminals were 
made to occupy the judges.” 

“How about the assassins, the pois- 
oners, the forgers?” asked A. M., and 
the journalist who had drawn near. 

“Some accidents, gentlemen, some un- 
happy circumstances, an unlucky chance, 
fatality, a question more or less of tem- 
perament. There are some who have no 
show. It is that which we always try 


26 


to prove to the jurors. If they would 
believe us, if we could assure them of 
the conviction which animates us, so- 
ciety would preserve all its members.” 

“It is a good thing for society that 
the judges are deaf to your noble ap- 
peals,” observed la Pudeurmeme, 
Vandelle who, for an instant, had 
been walking up and down the room in 
an agitated manner without anyone 
noticing him, drew near, and inter- 
rupted the lawyer : 

“This dissertation is very interesting, 
but I have some preparations to make, 
as I leave town tomorrow.” 

“ What ! are you going to get married 
in the country? ” asked some one. 

“In your manufactory, among the 
machines ? ” 

Vandelle did not reply. 

“Do you intend sending us away?” 
said Bertha. 

27 




‘‘Before the usual little game of bac- 
caratV^ added Louise. 

“Yes, yes,” cried all the women, “let 
us have a game of baccarat I ” 

The master of the house saw he could 
not refuse. He rang, gave some orders, 
and soon a gaming table was pre- 
pared in the middle of an adjoin- 
ing room. But, after attending to 
the wants of his guests, he did not feel 
compelled to keep them company; he 
left the saloTiy passed into his bed-room, 
arranged his toilet, said a few words to 
his servant, and went out. 

In a few minutes he reached the bou- 
levard des Italiens, and refusing the 
hacks offered to him by the coachmen, 
turned, with a quick step, toward 
the rue de Seze. About the middle of 
this street he stopped before a porte- 
cochere, ascended quickly two flights of 
stairs and rang the bell. 

28 


% 


A maid opened the door for him, and 
as he started to enter the apartment 
without speaking, she stopped him by 
these words: 

^‘You know of course, sir, that Ma- 
dame is out.’ ^ 

‘‘Madame not here?” repeated Van- 
delle, paling a little. 

“What do you mean? When did she 
go out ? ” 

“At least an half hour ago; I under- 
stood that she was going to your 
house.” 

“Why did you not tell me that at 
once?” said Vandelle, his color coming 
back. ^ 

He descended the stairs and retraced 
his steps. 

“Ah! murmured he on the way, “I 
love her more than 1 thought and mean- 
while ” 


29 


All at once, he remembered the slight- 
ly mixed society he had left in his salon, 
and, startled, he took a cab and drove 
rapidly home. 


80 


CHAPTER V. 


All the guests of Yandelle were not 
seated around the baccarat table; A. 

M., Raynal, Y and Blanche, were 

talking together in a corner of the salon. 

“I denounce A. M.,” said Blanche; 
“he knows the mistress of Yandelle, 
and he refuses to say anything about 
her/’ 

The speculator tried to defend himself, 
but two pretty arms were thrown 
around him and at the same time these 
words were whispered in his ear: 

“Come, what have you to fear? 
What disgrace is there for this woman, 
as she is going to be married, the 
situation will soon be legitimate ? 
There is no longer amy mystery, relieve 
31 


your mind, this secret must have 
weighed on you for some time.’’ 

“ Do you want me to help you,” asked 

V , leaning toward him. “I am on 

the scent, and I will bet that it is a 
good one.” 

“ Let us hear about your scent,” cried 
all in one voice. 

‘‘Do you remember that stranger? a 
Portuguese, I believe. She had a daugh- 
ter who resembled her in a wonderful 
manner. Everybody noticed them. You 
met them everywhere — in the hois, at 
the races, at the theater, at the seaside.” 

“Light brunettes, with queer e^^es, 
and startling toilets ? ” 

“That’s it. Everything about them 
was striking. One of them, the younger, 
made her horse go the length of the 
avenue des Champs Elysees backwards 
one day. Reaching the rond-point, the 
animal, who up to that time had given 


32 


in to all her caprices, refused to advance 
or rather go backwards. The girl at 
first struggled with him sweetly, then 
temper got the better of her, and, all at 
once, drawing a small pistol, which she 
alv/ays carried, she shot the horse and 
fell with him in the dust.” 

“Well, well ! that was plucky.” 

“ Poor horse, ” murmured Raynal,who 
was just drunk enough to be tender 
hearted. 

“The story does not surprise me,” re- 
plied Blanche; “I have seen her do 
many eccentric things at the seaside. 
She always swam way out without 
troubling herself as to how to return, 
and it was necessary, at least once a 
week, to fish her out.” 

“Nothing frightened her,” continued 

V . “One day, she left Luchon for 

the harbor of Yenasque, a very respect- 
able climb, you know. She breakfasted, 


3 


33 


following the usual custom, near a 
glacier; got full on champagne and rari- 
fied air, and, when the moment for 
departure arrived, declared that she in- 
tended to climb the Maladetta, asuperb 
mountain, but nearly inaccessible. Her 
mother implored her to renounce the 
project, but nothing could stop her, 
and she set out with the guides who 
were seduced by the promise of a 
large reward. The next day, no news — 
extreme anxiety — despair of the mother 
— searching parties on all sides. At 
last they found her, half dead from cold, 
before a glacier, which she did not wish 
to leave and which she obstinately in- 
sisted on crossing. 

“What a funny type,’’ cried Raynal. 

“Listen,” continued V , “my 

souvenirs carry me still farther back, 
the mother called herself Madame San- 
draz, and the daughter — Esther, 

34 


'‘It is two years since any one has 
seen them/^ 

“Madame Sandraz is dead and Mile. 
Sandraz must have returned to Portu- 
gal/^ said A. M. 

“Wrong/^ replied V , “the Esther 

in question is in Paris. She lives in the 
Madeleine quarter, and she is the mis- 
tress of Vandelle.” 

“How do you know? 

“A thousand indications, each one 
more convincing than the former, prove 
it.’’ 

“I prefer to hear A. M./’ said Raynal, 
“since he seems to have known her of 
whom we are talking.” 

“A. M., go on.” 

“What do you want me to say ? ’' 

“What is Mile. Esther? ” 

“An honest woman, first of all.” 

“An honest woman with a lover ? ” 


36 


‘'She has btit one, and she is going to 
marry him.” 

“She is lueky.” 

“To have only one lover ? ” 

“No, to get married.” 

“And what was Madame Sandraz,” 
asked Raynal. 

“A Portuguese, as Y said, the 

widow of a Frenchman established at 
Lisbon ; she moved to France after the 
death of her husband. A charming 
woman, who had only one idea in her 
head — to marry her daughter. It was 
for that very reason that she came to 
France, counting on the beaut3^ and the 
eccentricities of Esther, and on the 
Parisians, who pass for men of good 
taste. She had onl^^ a small fortune, 
and, risking all for all, she spent it 
lavishly to make a display- and to intro- 
duce Esther, always looking for a son- 
in-law, prince or millionaire, who woAld 
30 


repay the cost of the exhibition, with 
interest. She died , leaving her daughter 
on the streets of Paris, where Vandelle 
picked her up.” 

think many others would have 
stooped to do as much,” said the3^oung 
lawyer. 

‘‘Wh^^ has he not presented her to 
us ? ” asked Blanehe. 

‘‘I do not know how you can say 
that without wounding your modesty,” 
replied A. M., “but 3"OU are not exaetly 
of the same world.” 

“How! what has she more than we?” 

“ More than you? nothing assuredly;” 
answered the speculator, “ only she has 
perhaps at least ” 

Happily for the amour-propre of these 
women, Raynal, still drunk, threw him- 
self, head foremost, into the conversa- 
tion. 


37 


is a question of quantity that is 
raised cried he, without knowing very 
well what he was saying. ‘‘That is not 
offensive to you, ladies.^’ 

“It is a law axiom, jus romanum, I 
will uphold this whenever you wish, I 
will make a triumph before the jur3^’^ 

“ Are you sure of it ? ’’ asked Y . 

“ I beg the judge not to allow the pub- 
lic to interrupt me, the other side will 
answer.’’ 

“Bravo! bravo!” 

“A robe is necessary.” 

“A cap.” 

“A band.” 

And following the words, the orator 
was costumed in an instant with a 
black shawl, a woman’s hat and a 
paper band. 

“ And the traditional glass of water,” 
said Blanche, placing a glass before him. 


38 


^‘You confound,” observed Raynal, 
‘‘the lawyers bench with the legislative 
tribune. All the same I will drink.” 
“He is really drunk,” said Blanche in 

the ear of V , “he does not see that 

his glass of water is a glass of kirsch. 

Raynal, standing behind a chair, his 
arms leaning on the back, began : 

“What is this about? Concerning 
the number of lovers these women can 
have. Well, would you make a crime of 
their success ? Do you pretend to turn 
to their confusion the eclat of their 
triumphs? Take the great captains 
whose prowess history has celebrated, 
would beauty lose its prestige because 
of its conqucvsts? It would be unjust, 
monstrous, and if such a system could 
be brought before the court, I declare — 
I declare — I declare — ” 

“ What do you declare ? 


39 


The orator could not continue; emo- 
tion or kirsch cut short his speech; he 
extended his arms and fell on a sofa 
which some one had prudently placed 
behind him. 



40 


CHAPTEK VI. 


This brilliant and ever changing plead- 
ing prevented them from hearing the 
door bell ring. It was lucky that the 
servants^ room was quiet. Yandelle’s 
valet ran to open the door. 

A young woman entirely covered by 
a long white cloak entered the ante- 
chamber, and, without asking any 
questions, turned, as if she was in her 
own home, toward a little boudoir next 
to the bed room. As she was about to 
put her hand on the door knob, the 
domestic, at first somewliat astonished, 
recovered himself, and said : 

^‘Madame will be alone; my master 
has been gone an half hour.^^ 


41 


^^What, gone ont!’^ said tiie 3^oung 
worn an turning around, “all your lights 
are lit. From the street it might be 
called an illumination.” 

At the same time a confused noise 
reached her ear. 

“There is company here,” she said. 

“Yes, my master entertained some 
friends this evening; but,” continued 
the domestic, “without doubt their 
society did not please him and he went 
out soon after dinner.” 

^ ‘ He went to see me, ’ ’ said she, smiling, 
“ and when he learns that I am here, he 
will hasten to join me. I will wait for 
him.” 

She entered the boudoir and took off 
her cloak while the servant lighted the 
candles. This being done, he was about 
to withdraw, when she said to him : 

“It is a bachelor dinner that Monsieur 
Vandelle gave this evening? ” 


42 


“Yes, Madame — bachelors, stam- 
mered the domestic. 

“Bachelors accompanied by their — 
governesses, for I hear women’s voices.’’ 

The faithful Joseph thought he might 
commit an indiscretion so as to defend 
his master. In his mind he gained noth- 
ing from what he kept. Was she not 
directly the cause of it ? 

“Madame won’t be scandalized,” 
said he pretentiously, “it was a farewell 
dinner.” 

“A farewell dinner? I do not under- 
stand.” 

“Yes, madame, my master bade adieu 
this evening to his bachelor life ; he an- 
nounced, while I was serving dinner, to 
his friends that he was going to marry.” 

“ Ah !” said she. 

And you could have heard her murmur 
these words : “At last ! ” 


43 


Joseph, having once started, was dis- 
posed to be garrulous. He talked with 
the freedom which the Parisian servants 
have. Congratulated the young woman 
on her change of position, and asked 
her to keep him in her service, but 
with a gesture she stopped and dismissed 
him, after ordering him to close the 
door, so that no indiscrete person could 
enter the boudoir. 



44 


CHAPTER YII. 


Following an evening at tlie Italian 
Opera, where Esther Sandraz, whom 
we have seen enter Yandelle’s apart- 
ments, was one of the most noticeable 
rigures ; the manager of the Opera, ob- 
serving her, thought that the portrait of 
the beautiful stranger should be put in 
Le Figaro. It was, if one can use the 
expression, a descending portrait. He 
described her from head to foot, telling 
all that he saw, regretting, possibly, 
that he could not say more. The man- 
ager was not ordinarily so enthusiastic, 
but Esther Sandraz had completely sub- 
jugated him; he had watched her per- 
sistently with a pair of glasses, and 


45 


had followed her out of the theater. 
Here is the portrait: 

“Black hair, which in certain lights 
shows a tint of red; a low, broad fore- 
head ; thick eyebrows which nearly meet 
over great, velvety, almond shaped eyes ; 
eyes which have a strange expression 
and soft bluish circles beneath them. A 
straight, well formed, though not over 
small, nose, with large, rosy nostrils 
which dilate with the slightest emo- 
tion ; a complexion like the inner petals 
of a tea rose; full, red lips, with a little 
down over the upper one, which is short 
and permits one to see an exquisite set 
of teeth. A little, dimpled chin ; a full, 
large, but well made throat; graceful, 
sloping shoulders and a well developed 
bosom whose perfect contour and firm- 
ness can not be doubted. A rqund 
waist ; an elegant, supple figure with a 
perfect carriage ; feet as small as a 


4*6 


child's — or a Portuguese. An astonish- 
ingly splendid woman, who will cer- 
tainly create a sensation in Paris." 

During a year she made a profound 
sensation. She went everywhere, always 
surrounded by a veritable court ; three 
Parisians and five foreigners asked for 
her hand. To the despair of her 
mother, she dismissed them all, with 
the pretext that she did not love them. 
Then, one day, Madame Sandraz died, 
and Henri Yandelle, who had been on 
an intimate footing in the household for 
some time, profited from the despair 
of Esther, from the great void in her 
life and from the isolated condition to 
which her mourning condemned her, to 
penetrate little by little into the heart 
up to that time invulnerable. But 
what sorrow followed ! 

Vandelle’s victory had its cause: 
Born in the Hautes-Pyrenees, a coun- 


47 


try where life is rongh and hard, 
accustomed to difficult paths, peril- 
ous ascension, hunting excursions, 
often dangerous, he had led an active, 
adventurous youth, during which his 
muscles had developed, and his body 
had acquired strength for his after life. 
When at twenty-one he obtained pos- 
session of his mother’s fortune, and 
determined to settle in Paris, he was 
in perfect condition to withstand dis- 
solute Paris life. He went through 
everything, and did not die. At thirty, 
when he met Esther, thanks to his per- 
fect constitution, and the hardiness of 
his earlier years, he had as yet lost none 
of the vigor of youth; a too feverish 
existence, abuse of sensuality, an over- 
exciting of the nervous system, had 
even given him a factious force which 
was added to the other. 


48 


But this entirely material develop- 
ment was acquired to the detriment of 
his moral faculties ; he lived too fast to 
contemplate the future or to learn to 
know himself; his senses spoke too im- 
periously ; he was too much iheir slave 
to listen to the beatings of his heart, and 
to obey them. What else could he have 
been, in the world where he lived, in the 
middle of that easy voluptiousness into 
which he had thrown himself headlong, 
on his arrival in Paris, with all the 
ardor of his twenty years, the impetu- 
osity of his temperament ? In the rough 
mountains where he rarely saw his 
father, who was absorbed with the 
business of an important manufactory ; 
deprived of the gentle care of his mother 
whom he had scarcely known; where 
could he have learned how to love? 
Who had told him of tenderness, of 
sentiment, of true affection? Had he 


49 


been told that he must not confound 
the satisfaction of a material appetite 
with happiness; that besides the women 
of pleasure who had helped him to 
spend his fortune, there were others 
near whom he could live happily and 
taste inelfacable joys? He delighted in 
his ignorance and continued to turn in 
the whirlpool ; proud of his success in 
the boudoirs; satisfied with his never 
ceasing amours; ignorant of the wo- 
man, he confounded her with other 
women. 


50 


CHAPTER VIII. 


Mile. Sandraz, when she became inti- 
mate with Vandelle, aroused in him 
desire, not love. But Esther was de- 
ceived by him: hardy as he was, in 
spite of his vigorous constitution, his 
ruddy color, Vandelle had a certain 
native distinction, an elegance of man- 
ner, a little of the dissimulative power 
of his neighbors, the Bearnais, an intu- 
ition of worldly things, and all the 
tricks of the Parisian. He perceived 
that Esther was different from the 
amiable creatures with whom he had 
up to that time lived ; she was their 
superior as well in education and re- 
finement, as in beauty, and merited 
being treated with consideration and 
tact. 


51 


He therefore dissimulated his desire, 
and appeared, when near her, sincere, 
tender and discrete, because he knew 
well that she would neither understand 
or pardon any audacity. Thanks to this 
hability, she neither feared him or herself, 
and allowed him, little by little, to enter 
into her life. She was lost from that 
moment. While in their long interviews 
Yandelle cast longing side glances at 
Esther; while he at once admired her 
original beaut3^, fine and sensual ; while 
he tasted, at a distance, those thick, 
Yoluptious, red lips ; while, imagination 
aiding him, he tried to penetrate the 
charming mysteries, to construct in his 
mind a splendid Venus, agitated and 
palpitating ; while he profited from the 
least occasion to draw nearer to his idol, 
to breathe the aroma from her hair, to 
inhale her breath and meanwhile, to 
covet her; Esther, on her side, was 


52 


attracted by him in an entirely different 
way. Too pure to divine his intentions, 
to have the least idea of his aspirations, 
to make a distinction between love and 
passion, she unwittingly allowed herself 
to be conquered by his care, his fore- 
thought, his discrete kindness, his 
respect. She was under the charm 
of a very astute intellect, fit for any 
change, ready to uphold any point, 
even the most moral, and sharpened 
bj^ the wish to please and to triumph. 
She no longer saw an^" one but him 
in this great Paris, where she was 
a stranger, without family, without 
friends. It was with him alone that 
she could speak of the adored mother 
she had lost; he alone understood her ; 
he alone wept with her; and, one day, 
to her surprise, she found that she loved 
him, honestly, chastly, with all her 
heart. 


53 


CHAPTER IX. 


Must this love necessarily throw her 
into the arms of Vandelle? No; a fall 
is not obligatory because you stand on 
the brink of a precipice. Religion, 
education, great self-respect, sometimes 
preserve women from irredeemable 
faults. Others, without settled prin- 
ciples, have in themselves, a natural 
resisting strength ; they delight in 
heroic struggles, they cling to their 
virtue, and thanks to desperate efforts, 
never succumb. This last class, of a 
cold temperament, always guided by 
reason, triumph over all dangers. 
With both, the soul or good sense, saves 
the body. 


64 


Silt Esther was not of either class. 
Under the tutelage of an adoring, 
irresponsible mother, she had received 
more mental than moral training. Her 
imagination, naturally vivid, was still 
more excited by a wandering, erratic 
life, full of unforeseen events, of danger- 
ous dreams. Troubled in the present, 
disquieted over the future, in the middle 
of a captious atmosphere, Madame 
Sandraz had failed in the first duties of a 
mother — to strengthen her child’s moral 
fibre, and so to arm her against temp- 
tation. Besides, Esther was a Portu- 
guese, and the women of her country, 
whose ancestors colonized Brazil, have 
a little Indian blood in their veins; 
their temperament shows the effects of 
a tropical origin, nearly equatorial. We 
have been told of Mile. Sandraz eccen- 
tricities: her foolhardy rides, her dan- 
gerously long baths in the ocean, her 


perilous ascensions ; tliey indicated 
a fiery nature, with latent forces which 
must be fought and controlled. Un- 
consciously and from instinct, she 
overcame them by excessive fatigue. 
But these victories over matter were 
only passing; it asserted sooner or 
later its rights, more imperious than 
before, and Esther was soon powerless 
to conquer it. Her love for Vandelle 
had, to some extent, softened her, had 
swept away her former uneasiness, had 
given her a taste for domestic life, for 
long tete-a-tetes. As long as her heart 
was free, her senses slept, or, if they 
spoke, she did not understand their 
language; from the moment she loved, 
all her ardor was aroused and the fire 
was kindled. She was, from then on, 
in the power of Vandelle, morally and 
physically disarmed for the combat. 
Two forces were present: one, simply 


56 


natural, coming from Vandelle; the 
other, emanating from Esther, more 
ideal, which were about to materialize. 
An electric current was established be- 
tween thcvSe two forces, and, following 
a shock, a spark flashed forth. 



57 


CHAPTER X. 


Esther had made no conditions, ex- 
acted no promises. Would she acknowl- 
edge her fall ? Ardent glances had shot 
over their faces, passionate smiles had 
been exchanged, two looks had blended 
into one, two hands had been crushed in 
an embrace, lips had mingled in a kiss. 
The victory of the one, the defeat of 
the other, wudtten in the future, was 
that day, due to chance. 

After that, what could she demand 
of Vandelle? That he should marry 
her? She doubt his intentions! Was 
he not as free as she? Had he not 
always treated her with tenderness, 
with respect? Had he not been pre- 


ss 


senteci, while her mother was alive, 
• as a suitor for her hand ? Now that 
she was an orphan, without a pro- 
tector, was she less worthy in his 
e3^es? Was he not aware of her good 
birth, nearly noble, and of an irre- 
proachable past? Would a Parisian 
like Vandelle, habituated to so many 
strange things, reproach her for her 
eccentricities ? Besides, the time of folly 
had passed and would not return ; the 
existence of Esther was now as simple, 
and quiet, as it had previously been 
noisy and full of motion. She lived the 
life of a recluse in the apartments on 
the rue de Seze, where her mother had 
died, she received only Henri Vandelle, 
went out only with him, and always 
veiled, always mysterious, so that their 
liaison was not suspected. 

This seclusion, this hidden existence 
could only last for a time. Vandelle 


59 


evidently expected to marry her, when 
she should be forgotten by the Parisian * 
world ; he wished to make for her 
an existence which, if not bourgeoise, 
should be calm and tranquil ; he wished 
above all that his father, one of the 
richest manufacturers in the Midi, a 
proprietor of marble and slate quarries 
which he worked himself, in the Haute- 
Garonne, near Montrejeau, should make 
no objection to his marriage, and be 
happy to call Esther his daughter. 

But Vandelle’s father had now been 
dead for six months, and his suffrage 
became useless: on another side, Paris 
bowed down to new idols, without 
thinking any more of the beautiful 
Portuguese whom, jhist a short time 
before, it had adored. All the reasons, 
therefore, for delaying the union of 
the two lovers had disappeared, and 
Mile. Sandraz, who, from delicate 


60 


feeling, thought that nothing should 
be urged, nevertheless awaited with 
some impatience the time when the 
onh^ man she had ever loved, he whom 
she had chosen above all, would give 
her the position in the world to which 
she aspired, would dissipate the 
shadows which now surrounded her and 
allow her to live, not as before, in 
the middle of the noisy crowd, not in 
the whirl of societ3^ — she no longer 
desired that — but lawfully, as his ac- 
knowledged wife. 

The desired moment seemed at last to 
have arrived. Henri Yandelle had made 
in the Haute-Garonne, a fifteen days’ 
journey to arrange his business and pre- 
pare for his marriage. On his return^ 
he had sent Esther some charming pres- 
ents which could only be bridal gifts. 
Besides, this farwell dinner to his 
bachelor life, this declaration made ^t 


table, all indicated that the end of an 
illegal union and of passionate but un- 
avowed amours was near, and that 
new amours, just as passionate but 
more legitimate, were to succeed. 


CHAPTER XI. 


The sweet thoughts to which Esther 
Sandraz had given herself up, in the 
boudoir where we left her, were soon 
interrupted by a noise and a voice at 
the door. 

She got up quickly and ran to open it. 
It was useless to parley ; she had 
recognized the master of the house. 

“I beg your pardon, my dear Esther, 
for keeping you waiting,” said Vandelle 
on entering, ‘‘but I went to your apart- 
ments; that is my excuse. What 
possessed you to come here this even- 
ing? I swear I did not hope — ” 

“I doubt it, and if I had supposed 
that you would have company, believe 
63 


me — I was bored at home, I feared I 
would not see you. I was sad and I 
came. Once here, although our nest 
was occupied, I did not wish ,to leave. 
I never retrace my steps. 

While speaking, she had thrown off a 
large Spanish mantilla, which she was 
accustomed to wear, and she appeared 
superb in evening toilet, her shoulders 
bare. 

Where are you going or where have 
you been?” asked Vandclle, surprised 
to see her so magnificently appareled. 

‘‘From no where,” answered she, 
“and I am going no where.” 

“Then, it is for me?” 

“No, sir; said she regarding him ten- 
derly while she smiled, “it is simply a 
caprice. I told you that I was bored 
at home. I dressed for distraction. 
I am ornamented like a goddess with 
all your presents. It was a way of 

64 


thinking of you. Seeing myself so 
handsome, I did not wish my beauty 
to be wasted and so I came to receive 
homage. Do you blame me ? 

He looked at her and found her, this 
evening, more radiant, more lovely 
than ever. Then, as he was about to 
reph^ she added : 

“Take care, your friends are in the 
the next room.^’ 

“I will send them away,’^ said he 
quickly. 

“ Later. Sit down and let us talk.” 

He obeyed, and sat down beside her 
on the sofa. She was silent for several 
minutes, then, leaning toward him, 
asked : 

Do you still love me? ” 

“Do I love you ! ” 

He tried to take her in his arms, but 
she gently pushed him away, saying : 


65 


‘'Then, if you love me, why have you 
any secrets from me? ” 

“Secrets?” replied he, paling. 

She did not notice his trouble and 
continued : 

“ It appears you are going to marry, 
and all the world knows it, except me.” 

“Esther!” 

She laid her head on Vandelle’s 
shoulder, murmuring these words : 

“ For what moment are you reserving 
this surprise? ” 

“Who told you ? ” stammered he. 

He wished to draw away, but she 
had taken his hands and pressed them 
to her bosom, saying in the slow voice, 
which the women of her country have: 

“Am I wrong? This dinner, was it 
not a farewell one to those nights of 
folly, of which I have never been jealous, 
as you are well aware? Have I not 
proved to you, Henri, from the day 
66 


when, trusting to your honor, I gave 
myself to you, that I renounced my 
mondaine existence so that I could 
devote every minute of my life to you? ” 

He had succeeded in quietly draw- 
ing away from her; first of all he made 
a backward movement so that, hav- 
ing no support on his shoulder, she 
would have to raise her head. Then, 
in order that he might not be touched 
by her, might not notice the captivating 
perfumes which arose from her, might 
not be enthralled by her magnetic 
glance, might no longer see her delicious 
mouth, her tempting lips, those ador- 
able shoulders which shone in their 
nakedness, he . arose, and going over 
to the chimney, he took from the mary- 
land a piece of paper and pretended to 
be absorbed in rolling a cigarette. 

‘‘What is the matter?’^ asked she, 
astonished. “You seem annoyed. Ah! 


67 


I understand; you wished to tell me 
this good news j^ourself. Well, tell it, I 
know nothing about it. Tell me every- 
thing! You have overcome the diffi- 
culties which stood in the wa3^ of our 
marriage? That then is the secret of 
the trip you made, of the fifteen days’ 
absence, during which \^ou wrote me 
but once. I am not reproaching 3"OU, 
sir, I have never done such a thing.” 

She left her place on the sofa, and, 
rejoining him, stood before him, took 
his hands in hers and leaning her head 
on his breast, she asked : 

‘‘When will we marry? ” 

“Never,” answered he, without trying 
this time to avoid) her glance. 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“I mean that I love you too much 
to marry you.” 

And he tried to draw her to him, to 
soften his words with a kiss. 


68 


She resisted his efforts, and said : 

‘‘Come, let us talk seriously, I beg of 
you/^ 

“I am speaking seriously,’^ replied 
Vandelle, in a voice which he tried hard 
to make firm but which trembled in 
spite of his efforts. “ Do you not know 
that marriage is the death of love ? I 
am not weary of loving you, Esther; 
I wish to adore you all my life.’^ 

She drew still farther away, saying : 

“You are punishing me for having 
come here when you did not invite me, 
for having divined the projects which 
you wished to reveal yourself; I am 
wrong — Adieu, sir; I leave you with 
your friends, and will wait till you feel 
inclined to take me into your confi- 
dence/^ 

She took from the sofa the lace man- 
tilla which she had thrown there, and 
was about to threw it over her shoul- 


69 


ders, when suddenly Vandelle spranp^ 
forward, seized her by the arm, and, 
riveting her, so to speak, to the place 
where she stood, cried: 

“ Remain, since you are here. As well 
today as tomorrow.” 

“I do not understand you,” said she 
frightened. “What is it you have to 
tell me ? Speak ! speak ! ” 

“On one condition. That you hear 
me calmly to the end.” 

“ Calmly ? So be it. I am ready.” 

Withdrawing from his grasp she sank 
into a chair, and resting her elbows on 
her knees, her head in her hands, she 
regarded him intently. 


70 


CHAPTER XII. 


Henri Vandelle had returned to his 
plaee before the ehimney, and, lighting 
a eigarette to give himself countenanee, 
he asked : 

“Do you take marriage seriously, my 
dear Esther? Do you eare for the 
opinions, prejudiees, the foolish eonven- 
tionalities of the world ? 

She did not answer; still seated, she 
eontented herself with fixing him with 
an astonished gaze. 

“Have you not told me an hundred 
times, continued he more and more 
troubled by her silence, “that there was 
only one true thing in life — love.’’ 

“Well!” said she, dryly. 


71 


There is another thing about whieh 
I have not worried, beeause I thought 
it assured — wealth.’^ 

‘‘Wealth ! its true, I had not thought 
of that. Well?^^ 

“Well! my father, when he died, left 
his business matters in an inextrieable 
disorder. If a liquidation is made, and 
the works are sold, I am ruined. 

“And then?^^ 

“I have been offered a means of 
saving myself. The largest stockholder, 
the heaviest creditor of the business, is 
a yovmg girl whose father died previous 
to mine. Her guardian is an old family 
friend.’’ 

“And he proposes that you shall 
marry his ward ? ” asked she, in a calm 
manner. 

“Yes.” 

“ And your answer ? ” 

“ I consented.” 


72 


Esther sprang up with a bound, and, 
drawing near him, said : 

“ It is not true ! Y ou are lying ! It ean- 
not be possible! Are we not united? 
Do you not belong to me as well as I to 
you? Can anything part us? Ah! you 
wish to try me, to see if I am capable 
of doubting. No, I do not doubt, Henri, 
I believe in your love as I do in my own. 
You, marry another! Ah! the bonds 
which hold us would have to be broken 
first, the memories which rivet us to- 
gether would have to be effaced from 
our hearts! You, marry another! So 
you would like to kill me, to see 
me die ! Do you think you could leave 
me? you tried once, during the begin- 
ning of our liaison; you were afraid 
of loving me too much, you said, 
and you went away. You came back 
quickly, repentant and remorseful. And 
I, could I live without you ? Stop ! the 


73 


idea alone makes me shiver. Tell once 
again that nothing can separate us, 
that you love me!’^ 

‘‘Oh! yes, I adore you!^’ replied he, 
catching her in his arms, holding her 
close to him, covering her forehead, her 
eyes and her hair, with kisses, not 
knowing what he was about, forget- 
ting the words he had just said, con- 
scious of but one thing — that she was 
there, near him, trembling and beautiful. 


74 


CHAPTER Xlli. 


You marry another ! ” continued she, 
already reassured. Ah! the idea is 
truly pleasant. The unhappy woman ! 
I should pity her! and I should pity 
you most of all. Do you think that I 
would allow you to peacefully enjoy 
your good fortune? You Frenchmen 
can so sacrifice yourselves, but we 
Portuguese, we demand revenge.’^ 

While thus speaking, she had once 
more moved from his side, and, when 
he was no longer under her immediate 
influence, he regained his courage and 
resolved, since he had commenced, to 
finish the matter once for all and put 
an end to a painful situation. 


75 


^‘To think,’’ said he, “of your seeking 
revenge. You must, in the first place, 
become jealous, and how could you 
become so of a woman whom I do not 
love?” 

He stopped, then added, in a lower 
voice, for he was conscious of the 
enormity of the speech he was about to 
make : 

“The marriage in question is only a 
business matter.” 

“Come! a truce to joking,” said she, 
impatienty. “T have already asked 
you to talk seriously.” 

“I am serious,” replied he, resolutely. 
“Alas ! my poor Esther! it is too true, I 
am going to marry.” 

“ Repeat that.” 

“I say that I am forced to marry 
But that is no reason why I should lose 
you. I will never cease to care for you, 
I will never cease loving you. I also 


76 


wish your future to be assured, so that 
3'ou may be safe from misfortune; and 
from tomorrow — 

She bounded toward him. 

‘‘It is true then!” she cried. “You 
do not lie, wretch I ” 

“Esther ! ” 

“Yes, wretch! miserable wretch! 
For you are not satisfied with having 
betrayed me, you must insult me. You 
offer me money ! Have I ever asked 
anything of you ? Have I lived on your 
bounty? Am I a woman to sell myself? 
I believed in your love, in your honor. 
I depended on the loyalty of a French- 
man. I thought myself nobly united 
to the man of my choice. You told me 
to wait and I waited, simply, patiently, 
as sure of you as I was of m3^self. 
Have you not told me, that I was the 
one woman 3"ou loved, your wife before 
God, and that I would be so, some day, 
77 


in the sight of man? Have I failed, 
have I doubted, have I lost favor in 
your eyes ? Have I ceased to be worthy 
of your love, of your esteem ? ” 

It was Vandelle who now kept silent. 
What could he answer ? What had he 
to say ? 

“That’s like men!” continued she, 
pale, agitated and feverish; “that’s 
like life! that’s the soul, the heart, the 
uprightness of him to whom I confided 
my honor. You have sacrificed me; 
you have sold me, and you have the 
courage, the audacity, in this infamous 
sale, to offer me a share, to me — Esther 
Sandraz!” 

He was no longer listening to her, he 
was looking at her. Never had he seen 
her more beautiful. She walked about 
the boudoir with long steps, her body 
swaying and undulating voluptiously. 

Suddenly «he stopped and stood 


78 


squarely before him. He fixed his gaze 
on her superb shoulders; he felt the 
contact of her heaving bosom, he was 
overpowered by her proximity. 

‘‘How lovely you are!” murmured 
he, loosing his senses. 

“Ah! be silent,” cried she, drawing 
away, “you make me blush with 
shame! You saw in me, and you see 
still, only an instrument for satisfying 
your passion. And I who thought, 
who dreamt — Ah! wretch! coward! 
And I am united to you in whose love, 
up to today, I believed. Your love! I 
am beautiful, that’s all — and you offer 
me money ! it is just. Am I anything 
to you different from the courtesans 
whom you picked up on the streets 
before you knew me ? ” 

“Strike me, crush me, overwhelm 
me,” said he, devouring her with his 
eyes, “you are ever more beautiful.” 


79 


“ Coward ! ” replied she, ^‘joiir adora- 
tion siekens me ! You did not have the 
courage to face my resistance, to say to 
my face: This is what I wished to do. 
You decided furtively, in haste, awa3^ 
from me, you have struck me a cow- 
ardly blow. I despise you, but there is 
some one whom I despise more — my- 


self.’^ 



80 


CHAPTER XIY. 


At that moment a knocking was 
heard on the door of the baudoir lead- 
ing into the salon^ and at the same 
instant a voice cried out: 

‘‘Vandelle, Vandelle, open the door, 
we know yon are there shut up with a 
woman; it is not fair, it is not polite! 
We are your guests; you have no right 
to desert us.’’ 

One of the women, at the same time, 
struck the door with her fist and, imi- 
tating the stern voice of a comniissaire 
de police in the exercise of his duty, 
cried : 

‘‘ Open in the name of the law.” 

“1 will not open,” answered Yandelle. 

81 

G 


“Why will you uot?^^ exclaimed 
Esther Sandraz. “Why cannot these 
ladies enter ? Because I am here ? Am 
I not one of them now ? Am I not like 
them ? 

She violently pushed aside Vandelle, 
who was trying to hold her, ran to the 
door, turned the key, and opening it 
wide, said : 

“ Come in, ladies, enter, I beg of j^ou.” 



82 


CHAPTER XY. 


All the women rushed headlong into 
the boudoir as soon as the door was 
opened. But they stopped on seeing 
Esther. They perceived that they were 
not in the presence of a woman of their 
world. The paleness and attitude of 
Vandelle, the useless efforts Esther San- 
draz made to regain her composure, the 
nervous trembling which shook her and 
her flashing eyes, all showed that 
they had come upon a very exciting 
scene, broken in on a most trjdng situa- 
tion. The striking beauty of Esther im- 
pressed them, in spite of their feminine 
amour-propre, their confidence in their 
own charms, to which so many had 


83 


paid homage, they grew small and dimin- 
ished at sight of this splendid stranger. 

Mile. Sandraz, far from wishing to 
measure the distance which separated 
her from these women, had resolved, on 
the contrary, to descend to their level, 
and to overturn all the material and 
moral barriers that lay between them. 
Leaning against the mantle-piece, she 
said, in a sarcastic voice: 

^‘Ladies, I have an apology to offer 
you. Monsieur Vandelle’s valet thought 
it right to close the door communicat- 
ing between the boudoir and the sa/on, 
to hinder you from entering this room. 
Why? Are you not in Monsieur Van- 
delle’s house under the same conditions 
as myself ? Should a line of demarka- 
tion exist between us ; should I find m3^- 
self out of place in your society ? No, 
truh'! for that which has happened to 


84 . 


me has happened to you all. You have 
loved. You have thought — 

She stopped. The silence which reigned 
around her was uninterrupted ; the 
women all looked at each other, then at 
her. 

She continued, turning from one to 
another : 

‘‘You are beautiful, very beautiful, 
ladies; I also. Some one has deigned 
to find you pretty — his admiration 
lasted some weeks, did it not? and then 
he resolved to marry. You remember, he 
redoubled his caresses, his kind atten- 
tions — perhaps also, to fool you better, 
to lull your suspicions, your vigilance — 
he made you presents ! 

All at once she caught sight of the 
bracelets which encircled her arms, the 
necklace of black pearls with its large 
medallion set in diamonds which hung 
around her neck. 


85 


‘‘Ah! these jewels I When I think that 
I adorned ni3^self for him! and tearing 
the ornaments from her neck and arms 
she dashed them to the floor, crying to 
Vandelle: 

“Come, pick them up, and keep them 
for 3"our bride ! ” 

As Vandelle remained silent, motion- 
less, abashed, in the corner, where he 
had taken refuge; Esther again turned 
towards the women, saying: 

“Since he will not have them, permit 
me, ladies, to offer you these ornaments 
as a souvenir of my coming amongst 
you ; I am now your equal, 3’’our com- 
panion; and among friends one can 
make presents.’^ 

Nobody stirred, nobody spoke; so 
tired of talking, and weary of the scene, 
she took her lace mantilla, threw it over 
her head, and, taking in her hand the 
burnous with which she had entered 


86 


the room, she marched towards the 
door which communicated with the ante- 
chamber. 

On the threshold she stopped, turned, 
and, fixing her gaze on Vandelle, said: 

“Good bye, sir; may you be happy 
in your married life ! 

For an instant she walked firmly; 
then, suddenly, she tottered. All sprang 
toward her, but when they reached 
her side, she had already recovered, 
and murmured : 

“No, no — I need no one — I am strong, 
I am brave— and I wish to live.'* 


87 


CHAPTER XVI. 

An instant later the outer door closed. 

“What a magnificent departure!” 
said Blanche. 

“Yes, but the scene has thrown a chill 
over us,” replied Louise; “I am going 
home; besides it is two o’clock in the 
morning.” 

“Two o’clock ! ” cried Raynal, who 
had been asleep for some time and had 
just wakened, “two o’clock, and I have 
to plead tomorrow before the court. 
My hat ! quick ! my hat ! ” 

“Ladies, gentlemen,” continued he, 
“if you ever have need of a lawyer to 
defend you, call on me. I will see 3"ou 
acquitted.” 


88 


‘^Thanks, thanks,” cried all the women. 

“I trust I shall never need your ser- 
vices,” said Berthe. 

“You cannot tell what might hap- 
pen, my dear,” retorted Raynal ; “love, 
and passion, leads even the most tem- 
perate natures into crime. It is alwa^'S 
best to have a lawyer. My hat ! Where 
is m3" hat?” 

“You have been holding it in your 
hand for the last fifteen minutes,” ob- 
served Louise. 

“ Why, so I have.” 

He groped his way to the door and 
disappeared. 

As for Juliette, like a prudent woman 
who knows how to appreciate a good 
thing, she gathered up the jewelry 
which still lay on the floor; and you 
might have heard her murmur : 

“ It is not right to allow anything to 
be wasted.” 


89 


CHAPTER XVTI. 

Was the reason given by Henri Van- 
delle to Esther Sandraz, for not marry- 
ing her, the true one? Had he really 
dissipated his fortune? Yes, the ruin 
was complete; not a vestige of his 
maternal inheritance remained. Van- 
delle consoled himself for a season in 
thinking, that after all he had lived mer- 
ril3^ for ten years, and that he must 
have put much order in the disorder to 
have lasted so long. If you are aston- 
ished that Parisian life should have been 
so disastrous to a young fellow such as 
we have depicted, handsome, in robust 
health, intelligent, and not lacking in 
knowledge of the demi-monde ^ we beg 


90 


you to glance at the charming study of 
Eugene Chavette: ‘‘Ees Petites come- 
dies da viceP There were two cousins 
of equal fortune, but totally dissimilar 
appearance; the first conscious of his 
ugliness, made his mistress a generous 
monthly allowance; the second, ahand- 
some fellow, fancied he eould be loved for 
himself alone. One day they compared 
notes, and figured up their accounts ; 
the one neglected by nature, had never 
spent his income and yet, he found him- 
self beloved by his mistress, overwhelmed 
with kindness, treated with attention 
and respect. She deceived him, doubtless, 
but she did it when he was away on his 
vacations and in such fashion as not 
to wound his pride. Adonis, on the 
contrary, had been continually sacri- 
ficed by his loved one, who, wise in 
her generation, believed in attending to 
business before pleasure. She rarely had 


91 


time to receive him, and his calls were 
apt to be inopportunely interrupted; 
she adored him, intermittently, when 
her capitalist was not in the ascendent. 
In spite of this life of mortification, of 
continual privations and sacrifices, he 
was completely ruined, by champagne 
suppers, country parties, dressmakers’ 
bills, jewelers’ bills, flowers etc. The 
conclusion is, that one must know how 
to regulate one’s life, curb one’s vices, 
and conduct even a life of gallantry, on 
something like business principles. 
Among the demi-monde^ the role of a 
capitalist is more advantageous, more 
agreeable to play than that of the 
young lover. 

Vandelle, liked for himself, in his 
quality of a handsome fellow, had seen 
his heritage nibbled at by many 
white teeth, pretty teeth, but sharp, 
and used to biting out large pieces. 


92 


Nothing had ever been asked of him ; 
on the contrary, it was always said : 
“ There is no question of m oney between 
us” But so much disinterestedness 
merited some return ; he had made it in 
the form of jewelry, and disinterested- 
ness was so often shown that the con 
tents of several shops had gone in that 
way. 

Besides he loved to live well ; his 
robust health and his countr^^ appetite 
did not hinder him from being sensible 
to the refinements of the table. He liked 
strawberries in January, and preferred 
fine wines to only fair ones. A moun- 
taineer turned into a man of the world, 
a Spartan into an Athenian! Neither 
did he disdain a large, w^ll situated 
apartment, with luxurious furniture, 
expensive bric-a-brac, a saddle horse in 
the summer, a coupe in the winter, and 


03 


a hunting box in remembrance of his 
first love. 

The day on which the greater part of 
his valuables was sold and all accounts 
settled, he found there was only about 
fifty thousand francs left. The situa- 
tion made him thoughtful, but he was 
not a lyan to hesitate long; his tem- 
perament would not permit it. He 
imagined that fift3" thousand francs 
in his experienced hands, represented 
millions in those of others. Gaming 
had been for him up to this date a 
passtime; he resolved to make a coup. 
Could he not cite from the people about 
him, from among his acquaintances, 
more than ten persons who, without 
any visible means of support, without 
being either rentiers, or proprietors, or 
hard workers, had, thanks to Dame 
Fortune, led a very comfortable life. 
He did not reflect perhaps that these 


94 


persons, numerous as the3^ are, were ex- 
ceptions, however, in the world of 
gamblers. That world can be divided 
into two distinct classes, the lucky and 
the clever ones. 

The first, arriving at Monte-Carlo, 
approach a roulette table and throw 
several louis on a number; the number 
turns up and they receive the maximum. 
They pass to the trente-et-quarante, 
look for a series, run against the red 
a dozen times or so, receive a handful 
of bank notes and, the coup finished, 
return to Paris. 

The clever ones proceed differently; 
l3^mphatic, with a nervous system which 
leaves them in repose — they obey no 
other force — trace for themselves a line 
of action and never turn aside from it. 
For them gambling is a business as 
much as any other, a little more diffi- 
cult than another, that^s all; some of 


95 


them open an establishment of their 
own. With their reasoning, the man 
who risks a small sum to gain a large 
one deserves no pity ; for it always hap- 
pens that with a small amount he will 
loose a large one. Following this prin- 
ciple, they seat themselves every day 
at their club, before a baccarat table. 
They take twenty-five louiSy wisely di- 
vide it into little heaps, and knowingly 
handle it ; they pla3^ with skill , with only 
the expectation of winning five. They 
do so in several minutes if Fortune smiles 
on them, in an hour or two if she is 
sulky, and if it is necessary on that day 
to entreat her. Five louis a da^^ is 
three thousand francs a month; thirty- 
six thousand a year, let us say thirty 
thousand, admitting a very rare loss 
of twenty-five louis. Such is their in- 
come; it is assured under any condition. 
Tenants and farmers can be refractory 

03 


on pay day, the phylloxera can destroy 
the vines, yet there will always be clubs, 
casinos and some players to furnish 
them with an income. 

Vandelle, however, did not belong to 
the first category, the lucky ones. He 
could play one number for three hours, 
without seeing it turn up. He could 
take a baccarat bank and leave it just 
at the moment it would have been 
profitable; at trente-et-quarante, the 
scries which he played would never 
turn up while he was playing it, but 
as soon as he stopped it would win. 
Every one is not born with a silver 
spoon in his mouth ! 

He belonged still less, because of his 
temperament to the other class of gam- 
blers, the clever ones. His blood ran 
too rapidly, his nerves were too high 
strung, his nature too ardent, his dispo- 
sition too brutal to await patiently a 


97 


return of luck, and even after all his 
efforts, to be contented with a small 
winning. So he lost, in a few weeks, 
his outlay; his last bank notes joined 
the first which had been calling them 
for some time. 



98 


CHAPTER XYIII. 


It was at this point in his final ruin 
that he first met Esther Sandraz. She 
brought a useful diversion ; she allowed 
him to forget his situation and above 
all to have a less imperious need of 
money. This new //a/son cost him noth- 
ing, she really saved money for him ; ab- 
sorbed by the assiduous courtship which 
he paid to Mile. Sandraz, later by their 
honeymoon, little by little, he did away 
with his horses, his carriages, gambling 
and other costly luxuries. The last 
remnants of his fortune, the credit 
which for sometime remains attached 
to a brilliant existence, like the long 
twilight which succeeds a beautiful sun- 


99 


set, sufficed him to pay his rent, to 
dress, and to offer from time to time, 
a bouquet of violets to an honest 
woman. 

One day, his father died. This was a 
new inheritance for him to gather in, 
and the fortune of Yandelle, had a fresh 
start. There was nothing of it; whilst 
the son ruined himself with amiable 
manufacturesses, the father was doing 
badly in his legitimate business. New 
slate quarries, better than his own, were 
opened in the department of Haute- 
Garonne and all the government con- 
tracts had been bought up. He strug- 
gled a long time. He was a hard, pig- 
headed, tenacious worker, as severe on 
others as on himself ; he took a part- 
ner, gave him a superb interest, the lion’s 
share, made him work as he did himself, 
wore him out and one fine day buried 
him. Then he died in his turn, and as 


100 


his partner had a daughter, she inherited 
the greater part of the property. 

Vandelle learned all this while he was 
at Montrejeau. He abandoned him- 
self to despair in the arms of his notary, 
an old friend of the family and an able 
man, who told him that nothing would 
be easier than to restore the former 
magnificence of the business and build 
up a new fortune. He had only to sur- 
round himself with good engineers, to 
keep track of the progress of science, and 
to get married — that is to say, to marry 
Henriette de Loustal, daughter of his 
father’s old partner. Henri Vandelle 
would bring as a dot that part of 
the business still belonging to him, 
his activity, his work, his name, 
while Mile, de Loustal would bring the 
rest of the property left by her father. 

While these overtures were being 
made, Vandelle met by chance Mile, de 
Loustal, and in place of the country 


101 


school girl whom he expected to see, 
found a young woman, well educated, 
very pretty, and reaWy elegant. He de- 
sired above all things, time for reflec- 
tion. To pass from the boulevard des 
Italians to Montrejeau, from a man of 
the world of pleasure, to the director- 
ship of a quarry, was indeed a brusque 
transition, but it was not that whieh 
tormented him the most. Born in the 
Haute-Garonne, he had elimbed the sur- 
rounding mountains in his boyhood and 
loved the plaee with all the strength 
and fervor of first reeolleetions ; also 
the feverish and enervating existenee 
whieh he had led in Paris for the past 
ten years, had begun to pall on his 
satiated senses and had prepared him 
for a return to the simpler habits of 
his youth, to hunting exeursions, life 
in the braeing mountain air, and the 
contemplation of eternal snow. 


102 


But Esther Sandraz whom he ought 
to marry! he had promised himself to 
do so, and had been firm in his inten- 
tion. What dream in his povert3^ eould 
have been more beautiful ? Would not 
Esther have helped to eneourage him, 
nearly to the point of forgetting his 
poverty? Besides, if he did not love 
Esther as much as she merited — with all 
his heart — he loved her in his own way 
— with all the ardor of his passionate 
nature. It was a love of the head ; 
but the head, like the heart, excites 
itself; one dies of apoplexy as of an 
aneurism. 

Would he ever have the courage to 
tear himself away from her, of whom 
the thought alone made his head burn 
and his temples throb ? 

Yes, for on the one side was poverty 
in Paris, which so long had witnessed 
his splendor, while on the other hand, 
he was offered a renewal of his former 


103 


pleasures, a new fortune and a pretty 
wife. 

He reflected a long time; we already 
know the results of his reflections. 



104 


CHAPTER XIX. 


The decision that he had come to, and 
the propositions which he had made to 
Esther were the results of two things ; 
in the first place the life in Paris during 
ten years, the abuse of pleasures, had 
killed all his moral sense ; materiallity , if 
one may so express oneself, had ab- 
normally developed to the detriment 
of morality. In the second place, he had 
been so absorbed by Esther’s physieal 
beauty that he had forgotten to study 
her heart ; she was absolutely incapable 
of accepting the conditions which he 
had proposed in his desire to conciliate 
both love and self interest. 

When he found himself alone, after 


105 


the dramatic exit of Esther, he did not 
suffer keen regrets for that which had 
just passed. In short, a painful and 
terrible confession, which he had long 
hesitated to make, had at last escaped 
him. The situation was now clearly 
defined. Mile. Sandraz had given him 
his freedom. He had asked only for 
partial liberty, vshe had given it com- 
pletely; he could start now for the 
Pyrenees, rejoin his fiancee^ and become 
in a few years a millionaire. 

The next day and the da^^ after, find- 
ing his mind at rest and his pulse regu- 
lar he arrived at the conclusion that 
he had been mistaken regarding the 
strength of his affection for Mile. Sand- 
raz, and that perhaps this last liaison 
would leave no more impression on his 
life than the preceding ones. Variable, 
all blood and nerves, of an emotional 
nature, he would drive away the image 
106 


of Bsther with a fascinating reality, 
which should be Henriette de Loustal. 
She was charming, the little provincial, 
with her big dreamy blue eyes, grace- 
ful neck and shoulders, and her beauti- 
ful figure. What pleasure for a blase 
Parisian to pluck this sweet mountain 
flower. She was without doubt a little 
like the glaciers and eternal snows 
among which she was born ; she 
retained still a little of the chill of the 
earth where she had blossomed. But 
what a joy to transport her to a 
warmer clime, to see her develope under 
bright sunshine — the sunshine of love! 
The prosaic Vandelle became poetic, 
while dreaming of the future. 

Without quitting the domain of poetry 
and continuing his comparison, Van- 
delle said to himself that Esther also 
had been a beautiful flower, of which 
he alone had inhaled the fragrance. 


107 


But she was a tropical plant which had 
sprung into life naturally brilliant un- 
der glowing skies. Such flowers do not 
need cultivation. They shun the shad- 
ows and voluntarily lift their heads to 
the caresses and kisses of the sun. In 
Esther, Vandelle had found an adorable 
mistress, one, who in an hour, had 
passed from innocent maidenhood to 
passionate womanhood; she required 
no teaching, her southern nature in- 
itiated her into all the mysteries of love. 
He would find in Henriette, just the 
opposite type of woman, the virgin 
troubled and confused before the realities 
of life, but lovely in her blushes, chaste 
in her abandon, and always pure in 
thought. 


108 


CHAPTER XX. 

Thanks to these happy comparisons 
which were all to the advantage of 
Mile, de Loustal, Vandelle managed 
during three days, if not to entirely for- 
get Esther, at least to make his regret 
less poignant. But on the fourth day, the 
image of Mile, de Loustal became indis- 
tinct, her features faded little by little, 
as if veiled with a light cloud. He tried 
to see her in thought but the fog thick- 
ened more and more. He searched for 
the big blue eyes of Henriette and it was 
the deep, dark burning gaze of Esther 
which met his own. He looked for the 
sweet melancholy smile of Mile, de 
Loustal, and saw the fresh, red, half- 


109 


open lips of Esther Sandraz. He shut 
his eyes to drive away the vision, he 
eovered his mouth so that those ardent 
lips, whieh seemed to reach for his, 
might not kiss him ; useless effort ! his 
arms opened of themselves and Esther 
Sandraz triumphed. He made a des- 
pairing appeal to his old memories and 
saw again the pure and charming form 
of Henriette. He arose, sprang to- 
wards her, wished to take her in his 
arms, to press her to his heart, but Hen- 
riette escaped him and fled to the skies 
from which she had descended, and 
again he held the supple form of Esther 
and pressed against his shoulders the 
beautiful head of his lost mistress. 




110 


CHAPTER XXI. 


Soon he found it useless to evoke the 
image of Mile, de Loustal, she refused 
to appear even for an instant, and 
Esther reigned alone in his excited im- 
agination. It was futile to drive her 
forth, she always returned, supple, ca- 
ressing, enticing, vohiptious, exquisitely 
beautiful. Wherever he turned, in his 
apartment, in their lovers’ nest as she 
had called it, her vision rose before him, 
he saw her at the piano, heard her sing, 
in her warm contralto voice, one of the 
songs of Portugal ; an instant after, he 
saw her on the lounge, her head thrown 
back, her eyes half closed, her lips smil- 
ing, and her thoughts floating between 


a memory and a hope. If he closed his 
eyes to shut out the maddening vision, 
a delicate perfume, of which she alone 
knew the secret, escaped through the 
half-open door of the boudoir, reached 
him, and unerved him. If he went outto 
avoid these fancies, she suddenly stood 
in his path, in front of a shop, where 
they had often stopped, in a street 
through which they had frequently 
passed; in fact every stone in Paris 
spoke to him of her. 

He felt himself vanquished, crushed, 
overwhelmed, and six days after their 
rupture, he was again at Esther’s door. 



112 


CHAPTER XXII. 


The apartment in the rue de Seze was 
empty. 

Mile. Sandraz had left the night be- 
fore, alone, without saying where she 
was going, without leaving a single in- 
dication by which to search for her. 

Yandelle then fully realized how deep- 
ly he had loved her and what a loss 
he had sustained; he perceived how 
little this stange girl, met by hazard 
midst the tumult of Paris, resembled 
any other woman whom he had ever 
known. What strong bonds attached 
him to her ! What an ineffacable impres- 
sion she had made on his heart! She 
had written her name there as with a 


113 


red hot iron, and every day the letters 
burned deeper and deeper. 

He looked for her, made a thousand 
efforts to find her, went like a erazy 
man to all the plaees where he thought 
she might have taken refuge. Fruitless 
efforts! She was hidden beyond the 
possibility of diseovery. 

During this time Yandelle’s business 
went from bad to worse; he was urged 
to return to the south and to eonelude 
definitely the proposed marriage. 

If he hesitated, it meant ruin , and 
misery. 

After loosing Esther should he also 
loose his last hope of re-establisliing his 
future ? 


END OF PART ONE. 


114 


PART -TWO. 



. :Si?WJ^^€iwXmT ^J^PWIk^ ' •f . ISj 

V* _ ^ ln^ '-r - ' * \ T . ^*?a 








CHAPTER L 

On the slope of a hill, at the base of 
which the Garonne joins the Neste, 
fronting the little village of Montrejeau, 
which is situated on a high plateau, 
is a charming estate, well known 
to all Pyreenian tourists. This is 
the home of Henri Vandelle. It be- 
longs to the commune of G and the 

principle gate of the park opens out on 
the road which leads to the railroad 
vStation. Near this gate is a Louis 
XIII pavilion, intended for a keeper’s 
lodge or for the use of a friend who 
desires solitude ; it is composed on 
the ground floor of one large room 
with a gothic chimney in sculptured 


117 


wood, furnished in the same st^de and 
hung with old tapestry representing the 
Queen of Navarre surrounded by her 
eourt. The first floor has only two 
sleeping rooms, with modern furniture. 
The roof is covered with new slate; it is 
natural that Henri Vandelle, proprietor 
and director of the best slate quarry in 
the department, should maintain his 
property with care and especially this 
pavilion where he had passed his , 
youth. 

Two paths lead, b3^ an easy ascent, 
from the pavilon to the main house, 
which is a modern construction built on 
the ruins of a little sixteenth century 
chateau. From an eccentric idea of the 
former proprietor, these paths, instead 
of leading directly to the chateau, 
wind about in an English garden of 
great beaut3q midst beds of rhododen- 
dons, of roses, and of privets of great 


118 


size. A little pebbl3^ brook, a miniature 
torrent, shaded by stately pines, flows 
in and out among the trees and across 
flower-sprinkled lawns. 

A magnificent view may be had from 
the terrace of the chateau ; on the right, 
in the foreground, the home of Monsieur 
de Lassus, and the beautiful ruins of a 
convent. At the back, on a high pla- 
teau, Montrejeau (Mont-Royal) which 
you could easily take for a strongly forti- 
fied place; and on the same side, are 
vast plains reaching to Tarbes. This 
view of tranquil waters and green fields 
is restful to the eye after gazing on the 
grandoise panorama which unrolls itself, 
on the left, towards Luchon. In 
this direction the eye is dazzled, when 
the sky is clear. A background of lofty 
mountains, piled one above another, 
loose themselves in infinity ; near at hand 
are the high summits of Car and Cagire, 


119 


the peak of Houcheton, Mount Galie, 
the peak of Gar; and still farther off, 
towards Spain, White peak, Alva, and a 
corner of the Maladetta with its 
eternal snows. 


120 


CHAPTER II. 


Seated on the terrace, before his cha- 
teau, one beautiful afternoon in Au- 
gust, we again meet Henri Vandelle. 
Two years have passed since we last 
saw him, and time has wrought many 
changes. He is surrounded b3" sev- 
eral persons, the lawyer Raynal, ap- 
pointed six months previously solicitor- 
general to Saint Gaudens, and the 

mayor of G , Monsieur Fourcanade, 

accompanied by his wife and daughter. 
This municipal trinity does not lack ec- 
centricity ; the husband, short and stout, 
with thin legs and great flat feet; bald- 
headed save for a few grey hairs on the 
temples ; has big fat red cheeks veined 
with blue ; a beardless double-chin, sun- 


121 


burned neck, and prominent eyes, but a 
good kind smile, which discloses two 
rows of handsome, strong white teeth. 
The wife, tall, dried up, flat, a stick 
dressed in an umbrella cover. Has a 
yellow complexion, and jet black hair 
(bought for three francs from some 
mountain girl); a nose like a bird’s beak ; 
thin dry lips which she keeps pressed 
closelj" together as if to conceal the ab- 
sence of her teeth. She is a beautiful 
talker, smooth spoken though preten- 
tious and dictatorial to excess, in reality 
it is she who wears her husband’s scarf. 
The daughter, who is only eighteen 
years old, looks thirty. Nature was in a 
joking mood on the day of her birth, 
and gave her the good big head of her 
father, and the long rickerty body of 
her mother, which made her resemble 
an apple on an asparagus stalk. Alas ! 
she was the unfortunate result of the 


122 


union of a fat man and a thin woman. 

As for Raynal, the lawj^er, now be- 
come solicitor-general, he had cultiva- 
ted an expression and manner appropri- 
ate to his new position ; smooth shaven 
like a priest, with a serious mouth, and 
a piercing eye; he wears a white cravat, 
and a high, stiffly starched collar; and 
tightly buttoned in his frock coat, he is 
as straight as a poplar, with nothing 
about him of the old Raynal who was 
so easily intoxicated, so loquacious, so 
anxious to succeed with the fair sex. 

Vandelle, also, seems altered; the 
mountain air, instead of renewing his 
youth and giving him a new lease of life, 
had painted circles beneath his eyes 
and taken the color from his cheeks. He 
is still a fine looking fellow, broad 
shouldered and deep chested, but youth 
had departed. Hard rides, long walks, 
dangerous hunting, and the caresses of 


123 


the wind and sun, no longer agree with 
him ; this is not astonishing, for 
many Parisians cannot prudently leave 
their boulevards and change their hab- 
its. He grew old and emaciated in the 
healthy country where others regained 
their strength and rejuvenated; trans- 
planting is as fatal to some men as 
to some plants. 

It is fair to saj^, however, that nature 
is not wholly to blame for the 
^ change in Yandelle: she asked nothing 
better than to smile on him, to spread 
all her beauties before his eyes from 
thankfulness for his return ; but he had 
not the contented spirit which she ex- 
acts from those who would profit from 
her bounty. It is not sufficient that 
the feet of the prodigal child should be 
on the life-giving earth to which he has 
returned, but it is also necessary that 
he should not feverishl}" long for the life 


124 


he has lel't, or be constantly tormented 
by unhealthy desires and morbid 
thoughts. 


125 


CHAPTER III. 


Raynal, dignified and grave, chatted 
with, and questioned the mayor. 
“Have you many poachers in this part 
of the country Monsieur Fourcanade 
“ Very few, sir, ” responded the may. 
or. “The poor devils don’t dare hunt 
the chamois in the mountains; occa- 
sionly one spreads a net in the valley to 
procure a luxury for himself and — the 
keepers shut their e3^es.’’ 

“They are wrong,” answered the so- 
licitor-general severely. “It is encour- 
aging idleness, vagabondage and theft. 
I can’t understand why poaching is not 
a criminal offense. The man who takes 
your game is as culpable as he who 


126 


takes 3^our purse. Our laws are too 
lenient.’^ 

‘‘Well, you can^t send a man to the 
gallows for poaching a rabbit, ’ ’ observed 
Fourcanade. 

“Why not, sir? They hung them in 
olden times. 

“The devil ! but you are severe, Solici- 
tor-General !’^ 

“Severity is the beginning of justice. 
I recognize but two classes: honest peo- 
ple and criminals. Society must defend 
itself. Repeat that maxim to your 
keepers, Mayor. The police is very 
badly organized at Saint-Gaudens. One 
of my colleagues, appointed at the same 
time as myself, in the Central depart- 
ment, has already condemned two 
criminals to hard-labor, while I have 
done nothing here, absolutely nothing; 
not the least little crime to punish. 


127 


How can one expect promotion under 
such circumstances?^^ 

At this point, Henri Yandelle joined 
them. 

“ Happy mortal ! '' said he to Raynal, 
“you are ambitious.’* 

“Certainly” responded Raynal, “one 
does not enter the magistracy to re- 
main there all one’s life. Since I became 
a member of the bar, I perceived in 
myself, the stuff of which an attorney- 
general is made. But some occa- 
sion, some circumstance, some compli- 
cated crime must present itself before I 
become distinguished myself. Furnish me 
with that, and you will see. What a 
devil of a country it is which has no 
criminals !’' 

I “I assure you,” sighed the mayor, 
“that we produce very few.” 

Fourcanade then withdrew to rejoin 
his wife and daughter who had been 


128 


calling him for some minutes, and whom 
he feared to displease. 

Left alone with Raynal, Vandelle, re- 
membering the former theories upheld 
by his guest, could not restrain himself 
from saying, with a smile: 

‘‘What a complete change two years 
has made in your opinions on crimes and 
criminals !” 

“Two years ago,“ responded the 
young magistrate, “I was only a law- 
yer. To- day I am solicitor-general, and 
it is reasonable that with my change in 
position, my opinions should have like- 
wise altered. You also, my dear Van- 
delle, must acknowledge that your char- 
acter, 3'our habits, your manner of liv- 
ing have changed. 

“ You can well sa3^ that. My habits 
are like your opinions; the3^ have ehanged 
with the rest. Hunting, eating, drink- 
ing — there is no other way to pass life 

129 

9 


here, and very naturally I have become, 
from the force of these things, a great 
hunter, eater and drinker. I never did 
anything by halves/’ 

‘‘But you must have some occupa- 
tion?” 

“What?” 

“Your quarries, for instance.” 

“ My business ? That takes care of it- 
self. The machines run by steam, the 
workmen run like the machines. Every 
Saturday, pay-day; every month, notes 
to be met; every year, an inventory to 
be taken.” 

“And millions follow.” 

“Well! After that?” asked Vandelle. 

‘ ‘ Afterwards — ambition to become 
consul-general, deputy or minister.” 

“All that lacks one condition.” 

“What is it?” 

“The desire to be something,” replied 
Vandelle. 


^‘What! you desire nothing?’’ 

‘‘Yes, I have an ideal.” 

“Lets hear it.” 

“It conies from the happiness of the 
brute, like the mayor who is sleeping 
over there.” 

“You are joking!” 

“That is the sublimity of existence. 
Alan has two enemies, his senses and his 
conscience. He must overcome the body 
by fatigue and kill the spirit by sleep.” 

“You mean to banish sad memories, 
do you not? ” said Raynal with a know- 
ing air. 

“Do you think that I suffer from my 
souvenirs ? Which ones ! 

Raynal stopped to cast a steady 
glance on Yandelle, then answered : 

“Those which Mile. Esther Sandraz 
left you.” 

“Esther!” said Yandelle trembling. 
“Do you know her ? ” 


131 


‘'I ought to know her,” answered 
Raynal, renouneing his grand magis- 
terial air and beeoming what he really 
was: a eharming fellow. '‘But, alas! 
the day I met her at your house, your 
dinner was so good, your wines so 
exquisite, that— shall I aeknowledge it? 
— I was drows3^ Come, let us not 
beeome retr ospeeti ve . ’ ’ 

“Permit me to observe,” said Van- 
delle, “that it was you who started this 
subjeet; however, you ean safely evoke 
mine: they are dulled by time.” 

“They should be,” said Raynal gal- 
lantly. “Madame Vandelle, whom I see 
approaehing us, is so eharming. Apro- 
pos, who is that young man with her ? 
It is the first time that I have seen him 
in these parts, and as a magistrate, you 
understand — ” 

“You must know ever3^body. Well! 
that young man is a distant relation of 


132 


my wife and a friend from infancy, if 1 
am not mistaken. His name is Olivier 
Descliamps, and he is looking for a po- 
sition in these parts.” 

“Will you take him in with you ? ” 
“No; I have no need of him.” 



133 


CHAPTER IV. 


This last remark would have pained 
Henriette if she had heard it. She 
formed, at this time, the project of plac- 
ing the young engineer in the factory of 
her husband. 

'‘I would like, my friend,” she said to 
him, while walking in the garden, “to 
see you begin here, in this country 
which was nearly the birth-place of us 
both, your career which I prophecy will 
be great and useful. I would like to as- 
sist you on your start in life.” 

“Oh! my dear Henriette,” answered 
Olivier, “if you knew how happy your 
words made me feel I How pleasant it 
is to know that one is not alone in the 


134 


world! Often I said to myself, at 
Paris: Have I still a sister, and how 
long will I have her ? She will marry, 
and will forget me.’’ 

You will never fade from either my 
memory or my heart. You are the liv- 
ving souvenir of my infancy. You were 
the first protector, the first support, 
the first affection that I had besides the 
maternal one. Your hand was the first 
to sustain me after leaving my moth- 
er’s. You were four years older than I, 
you were already a young man when I 
was only a little girl. I remember every- 
thing; our games and scampers in the 
country, where you kicked aside the 
stones which lay in my path ; when you 
took me in your arms, already strong, 
to help me over the hedges and ditches ; 
everything, even to the day when you 
threw yourself so bravely before me, to 
protect me from a frightened horse.” 

135 


Do you remember all that ? 

It is not so long ago, and I have not 
yet had sufficient pain or joy, to efface 
those memories from my heart.” 

She said all this in a sweetly modu- 
lated voice; her large blue eyes, veiled 
with long lashes regarded Olivier frank- 
ly ; her mouth smiled on him sadly but 
charmingly. Two years of married 
life had perfected this beauty, which 
the Parisian Yandelle, spoilt as he was 
by too much good fortune, had himself 
formerly admired. The young girl, im- 
mature in some respects, had become a 
perfect woman; her features were less 
sharp and more delicate; her lips more 
moist ; the blood circulated more active- 
ly under a skin of extreme fineness. The 
flower had nearly blossomed and the 
stalk itself had participated in this 
gracious development; the shoulders 
were equisitely rounded; the bust had 


136 


developed; the waist was supple and 
svelt; and without having lost any of 
the modesty of the young girl, Henri- 
ette de Loustal had acquired the assured 
manner of the married women. 

Her companion, Olivier Deschamps, 
was about twenty-five; of medium 
height, slender but elegant ; wore a full 
brown beard, and a moustache which 
parted so as to show a fine set of teeth. 
His eye-brows were very heavy ; his face, 
rather melanchol^^ when in repose, but 
firm when he looked at anyone, seemed to 
indicate a powerful will and great en- 
ergy. He was still a young man, but from 
certain lines on his forehead, from his 
sad smile, you could see that life had 
not always been easy, and that he had 
tasted of its bitterness. 


137 


CHAPTER V. 


When Madame Vandelle had finished 
speaking, Olivier, who had listened in 
silence, said : 

“I would like to ask you one thing, 
Henriette/^ 

“Ask it, ” replied she, smiling. 

“I fear,’’ continued he, “that you are 
not happy.” 

“From whence does this fear arise, my 
friend ? ” 

“Are you loved as you desire? ” 

“I do not know how I desire being 
loved; but I think that Monsieur Van- 
delle has a sincere and loyal affection 
for me.” 

“And is that all? 


138 


do not know life very well, my 
friend,^’ she answered, ^‘but the little I 
have seen, makes me think that one 
must not expect perfect happiness. 

“And you love your husband ? 

“Loyally, sincerely, as I desire, as I 
think he loves me. We did not make a 
love match. I knew Monsieur Yandelle 
very slightly, for he came here rarely. 
He did not displease me, that’s all. 
When this marriage was proposed to 
me as the only means of saving his for- 
tune nearly lost, and my own in about 
the same condition, I consented with- 
out enthusiasm, but at the same time 
without repugnance. If he is kind, I 
told myself, I will love him, and I was 
confident that he would be.” 

“Has this confidence been justified? 
What has come between you? What 
causes this coldness which he shows you. 


139 


which I have already noticed, and from 
which you suffer ? 

‘‘You are mistaken, I do not suffer, 
I only feel that I am somewhat is- 
olated. My husband has need of vio- 
lent exercise, of distractions in which I 
cannot share. It is necessary for his 
health and good temper and besides, 
my isolation is about to cease, as I will 
soon have a companion, and I hope 
a friend. I have had him write to 
Paris to find an honest, well bred young 
woman who would consent to come 
here as a reader and a dame decompag- 
nie. If I find a person whose character 
pleases me, and whose tastes accord 
with mine, I will accommodate myself 
to the habits of Monsieur Vandelle.’^ 

He looked at her for an instant. Then, 
raising his voice, he cried : 

“And is that all you ask in life, you 
who merit every attention, every joy? 

140 


You are contented with the mere kind- 
ness of this man! Ah! this marriage! 
this marriage which threw me into 
despair! this marriage, which I hated, in 
breaking my heart, did not make you 
happy! I have not even the consola- 
tion of suffering alone! 

“What do 3^ou mean, Olivier?^’ de- 
manded she, trying to speak severely. 

“Pardon, pardon,” continued he, 
“the words escaped mein spite of my- 
self. They came from my heart. I am 
too unhappy ! I suffer too severely ! Do 
you not know, Henriette, that I love 
you ? ” 

“Stop! stop! Olivier; do you wish 
me to repent of the affectionate reception 
I gave you ? ” 

“Henriette, my sister — ” 

“Your sister, yes, your sister. It is 
because of that name, and our memories 
of the past that I forgive you those 


141 


foolish and insulting words. I do not 
wish to remember them, and it shall be 
as if you had not spoken, and I had not 
heard. I will remember only our child- 
hood^s friendship. Keep that, as I 
do, a pure and happy memory of inno- 
cent joys we shared together. Hen- 
riette has become Madame Vandelle, 
do not forget that. Come, all is said, 
give me your arm, my brother; I must 
rejoin my guests, who, without reproach- 
ing you, I have too long neglected.” 

During their long conversation, the 
day had drawn to a close, and the first 
lights of the setting sun were lighting 
the tranquil waters of the Garonne, 
and the surging torrents of the Neste ; 
all the mountains in the horizon were 
pictured against a clear sky, just com- 
mencing to redden and on their high 
summits, the snow and ice took a pur- 
ple tinge from the heavens. 


142 


CHAPTER VI. 


When Hcnriette reappeared on the 
terrace of the chateau, the mayor was 
talking to Raynal and Vandelle. 

“What happy mortals you are, gen- 
tlemen/’ said he, “to have passed your 
youth at Paris ! As for me, I have only 
dreamed of suppers, balls and that 
which is called, as I have been told, la 
vie de polichinelle. ’ ’ 

Madame Fourcanade had quietly 
drawn near, and, taking the arm of her 
husband, said to him: 

“It seems to me, sir, that you have 
been polichinelle enough without leav- 
ing your province.” 

“Great heavens, my dear friend,” re- 


J43 


plied tlie mayor slightly troubled, ‘^you 
cannot compare the two places. Sprees 
in Paris and those in the provinces are 
not at all alike. The women, above all, 
in the capital have a briskness which 
cannot be found in the provinces.” 

‘‘Shame! sir, shame!” cried Madame 
Fourcanade, “near your daughter, a 
father of a family, a municipal magis- 
trate, mayor of this place, to talk so!” 

“I only talk so;” replied the mayor 
sighing; and fearing to again scanda- 
lize his wife, he turned towards Ra3uial 
and hastened to propose a game of bil- 
liards before dinner. 

“I do not play billiards,” answered the 
solicitor-general. 

“What ! really ? ” cried the mayor. 

Madame Fourcanade took this oppor- 
tunity of again interfering. 

“ Well, why are 3^ou astonished?” said 
she sharply to her husband. “ Do you 


144 


think that the solicitor-general is a bil- 
liard-room loafer like yourself? 

The mayor drew himself up: 

‘‘I frequent cafes, madame,^^ said he 
with dignity, ‘Mn the public interest. It 
is only in such places that I am called 
upon in my official capacity/’ 

Bah ! ” said Raynal. 

‘‘ Without doubt. You cannot imag- 
ine, Solicitor-General, how much in- 
fluence a bowl of punch, offered at the 
right time, can have on the delibera- 
tions of a municipal council. And the 
elections ! I have been mayor here for 
twenty years. Well, sir, my commune 
has always voted, as one man, for the 
candidate of the government, no mat- 
ter who he was. And it is in the cafes, 
that such results are accomplished.” 

‘‘How is that?” 

“It is very simple. For example: 
Take Crabioules who controls thirty 


10 


X45 


votes for the opposition. I play domi- 
noes with him for his votes — and I win. 
In the following election the party of 
Crabionles is in power. It is now Braba- 
zon whom I must win over. I play 
him a game of billiards — and I carry off 
his votes. That is how you govern a 
commune. 

All at once the mayor stopped to 
consult his watch. 

“Gentlemen/’ said he, “I announce to 
you that the express from Paris to Tou- 
louse is three minutes late.” 

From the time when the station of 
Montrejeau had been established, Mon- 
sieur Fourcanade, whose little store of 
wooden objects and his municipal 
duties gave him plenty of leisure, had 
been given the position of manager at 
that point. You would have taken him 
for an employee, so well posted was 
he on the arrival and departure of 
140 


both freight and express trains. He 
had also become accustomed to extend 
his arm, like a. signalman to show that 
the track was clear. At the hours when 
the express trains from Paris stopped 
at Montrejeau, you would see him run 
to the station. He would precipitate 
himself into the buffet, stare in the 
faces of the passengers, try to touch 
them and to converse with them. “They 
are to me” he would say, “like a Paris- 
ian perfume; 1 seem to have arrived 
from the capital myself and I forget the 
immense distance which separates me 
from it.” 

Whenever he met a pretty Parisian 
woman, he would take care of her like 
a father. “Madame can breakfast in 
peace” he would say to her, “she has 
more than twenty minutes ; I will warn 
her when it is time to depart.” He 
would go and come, would consult his 


watch, regulate it by the railroad dial, 
would converse with the master of the 
buffet. The station-master, the assist- 
ant station-master and the baggage- 
master, had become his friends. Some- 
times he would shout out: ‘‘Five 
minutes before the train leaves for 
Pierrefite and Tarbes; ten before it 
leaves for Luchon; fifteen before it 
leaves for Toulouse.” 

And, when the moment of depar- 
ture arrived, he would run to his little 
Parisian woman, compel her to give 
him her satchel and assist her into a 
compartment. 

I have just had a walk on the boule- 
vard des Italiens,” he would say on 
returning home. 

Alas! on the sixth of September, 1877 , 
Monsieur Fourcanade dined with Van- 
delle, accompanied by his wife and 
daughter, and it was impossible for 

X48 


him to be at the station to meet the ex- 
press from Paris. It was unfortunate ; 
he wo\ild have seen such a woman as 
he loved descend from the train ; tall, 
distinguished, simply dressed, but in 
perfect taste. A light traveling wrap 
covered her shoulders, without entirely 
hiding her slender and supple waist; 
a dress of neutral tint and a simple 
hat completed her costume. Through 
a thin veil, which she wore, you could 
distinguish her charming features and 
a pair of bright e3"es which took in 
everything at a glance. 

She was alone. Fourcanade could 
have offered his services, and, what vras 
most extraordinary, Montrejeau seemed 
to be the end her journey. She stop 
at Montrejeau! such an event did not 
happen once a year. 

In place of walking about the station 
or entering a buffet, she turned towards 
149 


the entrance, gave up her ticket, learned 
that she could leave her baggage at the 
depot, and addressing a man standing 
near, asked : 

^‘Will you kindly show me the road 
to Monsieur Vandelle’s house?’’ 

When she discoverd that she was onl^" 
a kilometer from the chateau, she re- 
fused the carriage which was offered 
her and walked slowly along the road 
which had been pointed out. 

A quarter of an hour later she entered 
the park, and, perceiving a gardener, 
she asked him to tell his master that a 
lady from Paris desired to speak with 
him. 

The gardener, before starting, opened 
the salon of the Louis XIII pavilion 
for her. 

Ten minutes passed, then Henri Van- 
delle appeared at the end of the path 
leading to the pavilion. He walked 


150 


rapidly, looking curiously in the direc- 
tion pointed out by the gardener. What 
could anyone want of him ? Who was 
this woman from Paris ? He was look- 
ing for a companion for his wife, and he 
had written to several of his friends, 
but they had not yet answered. Besides, 
this person who desired to see him, if 
she was seeking the position of com- 
panion, would have presented herself 
directly to Madame Vandelle. 

He stopped near the pavilion, the 
door of which was half-open, and 
looked in. 

In the salon hung with the old tapes- 
try, a woman was seated, but her back 
was turned towards the door and she 
did not seem to be aware of his ap- 
proach. 

He entered. 


161 


CHAPTER VII. 


The stranger rose leisurely, then 
turned quickly around. 

Esther ! cried he. 

‘‘Yes, it is I, Esther Sandraz.” 

The surprise was too great, the emo- 
tion too strong; Vandelle felt faint and 
was obliged to lean against the wall 
for support. He looked at her for some 
moments without speaking. Then, feel- 
ing stronger, he stepped forward saying : 

‘‘You! you here? 

Esther did not answer ; she stood be- 
fore him, motionless, her eyes fixed on 
his. 

Finally, carried away by an irresist- 
ible impulse, forgetting where he was. 


152 


his situation, and the danger that he 
ran of being overheard, he sprang 
towards her crying : 

darling! is it possible that you 
have come back to me? You whom I 
despaired of seeing again! Is it not a 
dream ? Is it you, really you ? But how 
you look at me! I am changed, am 1 not? 
It is the life I lead here, your love which 
I miss. How right you were in saying 
that memory would torment me ! Ah ! I 
was ignorant of its mysterious power. 
How often have I cursed this marriage 
which parted us ! Where have you come 
from ? Where have you been ? I have 
written you, I have searched for you — 
‘‘I know it.^^ 

You knew it, and you remained hid- 
den ! You were avenging yourself? ” 
‘^Yes.’^ 

‘‘But at last, love has vanquished 
anger. Is it possible for us to live 


153 


apart? You have forgiven me and liave 

understood that I could not have es- 
caped this marriage? If I had not made 
it there would have been ruin for us both. 
What would have become of us in that 
Parisian whirlpool, with our expensive 
tastes, without a resource of any sort? ” 

He stopped to look at her. He was 
completely metamorphosised ; his face 
had brightened, his glance was brilliant. 
He had grown young in an instant, 
after all the sad years that had passed. 
In his wild delight, his folly, he forgot 
his duty, his dignity. 

“Ah! how beautiful you are, my 
Esther,’’ said he, “more beautiful even 
than memory painted you. When I 
called you, when in the paroxism of 
despair, in the fever of love, I evoked 
your image you did not appear to me 
like this I But why do you not speak to 
me? You came to find me, did you not? 


154 


Let us leave here together. Where shall 
we go ? 

‘‘ No where, ’’replied she in a calm voice. 

“You prefer to remain at Paris? So 
be it ! I will meet you there, I can ab- 
sent myself for months at a time. 
Or would you prefer to live in this 
neighborhood? At Luchon or Saint- 
Beat, wherever you wish. I will buy you 
a house, a chateau, carriages and horses; 
I will make 3^our life luxurious and 
worthy of your esprit and your 
beauty.” 

She checked him with these words: 

“Do you suppose that I have returned, 
after an absence of two years, to accept 
the propositions which I have already 
refused ? ” 

This remark, and the cool way in which 
she said it, calmed Yandelle’s excite- 
ment. 

“What do you want then ? ” asked he, 


165 


in a dazed manner, like a person coming 
out of a dream. "‘Have you returned 
only to leave me again ? ’ ^ 

“No, I shall remain here.’* 

“How, here? — HERE !’’ repeated he 
astonished. 

“Yes!” answered she, tranquilly. “I 
have eome to live with you.” 

Stupified, he repeated twiee: 

“ With me ! with me ! ” 

“Certainly,” replied Esther. “Are 
you not looking for a companion for 
Madame Yandelle? ” 

“Well?” 

“Well, I eame to fill that position.” 
“YOU!” 

“Yes, 1.” 

“It is out of the question.” 

“Perhaps.” 

“ It is quite impossible ! ” 

“As you may remember, I have a. 
faney for accomplishing the impossible.” 

156 


“ But what is your object ? ” 

f 

“It is not necessary to tell you, you 
will soon see/’ 


✓ 



167 


CHAPTER VIII. 


As he was about to question her 
further, she took a chair, and her right 
shoulder resting against the back, her 
arms folded, she continued, in her slow 
sweet voice : 

‘‘What! you pretend that you have 
always loved me! That for two years 
you have thought and dreamed only of 
me ; that you were in despair at having 
lost me and without me life was deso- 
late ! Yet, when I return offering to live 
always at your side, under ^^our roof, 
and never to leave you, you repulse 
me, at the risk of losing me forever 
this time. You are very foolish, my 
dear.” 


X58 


He started to reply, but she arose, 
walked towards him, laid a hand upon 
his shoulder and said quietly : 

‘‘You are to present me to your wife, 
I desire it.’^ 

He trembled, but immediately recov- 
ering himself. 

“My wife,’’ said he “would not com- 
mit the imprudence of admitting 3^ou in- 
to her household to share her life. You 
are too prett^q your beauty would 
frighten her.” 

“My beauty,” replied she, “would not 
make the same impression on Madame 
Vandelle as it does on j^ou. Women 
have not the same enthusiasm for each 
other that they are able to inspire in you 
men. Besides Madame Vandelle is also 
pretty, very pretty, I have been told, 
and she has too much self-respect to 
fear a rival. Moreover, I will manage, 
b^^the simplicity of my dress, b^' my be- 

X59 


h avoir, to avoid all danger. I will 
be so unobtrusive, I will take up so 
little room that nobody will think of 
looking at me.’^ 

“But,’’ replied Yandelle, “my wife 
will not accept you without recommend- 
- ations, without letters.” 

“Letters,” said she tranquilly, “I 
have some.” 

She took from her pocket a little Rus- 
sian leather case, from which she drew 
out two letters, and as the day was 
waning, went to the window and began 
to read them, throwing into her voice 
all the passion of which it was capable : 

“Esther, I can no longer exist with- 
out you! I love you more than ever! 
I love you like a fool ! Our past rises 
before me! I am all unstrung! My 
head is on fire — the memory of our 
love burns me, devours me! Say one 


160 


word and I will return to you, and be 
your slave for life.” 

She ceased and turning towards Van- 
delle said: 

“This letter you wrote me a month 
alter your marriage. You addressed it 
to the rue de Seze, where a trustworthy 
person went to collect my letters and 
forwarded them to me at the retreat 
where you were unable to find me. But 
it is not all. Here is another one; dated 
like the former. Listen : 

do not know if my letters have 
reached you. I do not know if this one 
will. Where have you hidden yourself? 
Where have you fled from me? I have 
used every possible means to find you. 
Are you not sufficiently avenged by the 
tortures I have endured ? Ah ! I swear 
to you, they are intolerable! Why do 
3^ou avenge yourself since I do not love 
her, since I cannot love her. Your mem- 


11 


161 


ory separates me from her, will always 
separate us! I shall never be able to 
find happiness with another woman. 
Write to me, come back, forgive me. 
Make your own conditions. I accept 
them in advance. Do with me as you 
will, I would do anything for 3^ou.’ 

“Well!’’ he asked, when Esther had 
finished reading, “what use do you 
intend making of these letters?” 

“None, if you present me to your wife, 
as the companion she expects. You can 
tell her whatever you choose; that 
don’t interest me. You can say that I 
have been recommended to you by one 
of your friends in whom 3"ou have the 
utmost confidence, a relative, if neces- 
.^Sivy. Madame Yandelle does not read 
your letters, I presume. In spite of the 
distance that separated us, I did not 
lose sight of 3-0U, and, from the infor- 


162 


mation I received, know that you are 
master.” 

‘‘ It is true, but on condition that I 
do just and reasonable things.” 

“This time you will be unreasonable.” 

“And if I refuse?” asked he. 

“ It is useless to answer. You will do 
it — from weariness of the life that you 
lead, from your love for me, and,” ad- 
ded she, holding up the letters, “from 
fear.” 





CHAPTER IX. 


Henriette Vandelle and her compan- 
ion are seated in a little summer draw- 
ing-room, which connects with the 
large Gothic salon of the chateau. 
Through the glass door opening on the 
terrace the magnificently sun-lit moun- 
tains can be seen. The sky is of a trans- 
parent blue, without a cloud, without 
a speck. On the horizon alone, light 
vapors, arising from the warm earth 
of some plateau, mount slowly towards 
the high summits, hiding for an instant 
some lofty peak, then mounting still 
higher finally disappear behind the 
most distant range. 

From the terrace where the last 


164 


flowers of summer, mixed with the 
first of autumn, bloom from the neigh- 
boring hedge and from the lawns, where 
the grass is being cut, a thousand pene- 
trating odors arise and, wafted by soft 
breezes, enter the salon. 

Esther Sandraz, whom everybody, 
at Vandelle^s, since her arrival, calls 
Claire Meunier, is reading aloud a 
new novel and Henriette has allowed 
her embroidery to fall in order that she 
might better listen to it. Suddenly she 
interrupted her by saying : 

‘‘How false such passions are! how 
exaggerated the sentiments ! 

“Do you think so, Madame said 
Esther raising her head and pushing 
awa}^ the book. 

“I understand why the authorities 
prohibit such kind of stories, for they 
are exciting and enervating and do no 
good to anyone.’^ 


105 


‘‘That is strange. They. d on ^t trouble 
me a particle. 

“What! Mademoiselle, can you under- 
stand the criminal love of this woman, 
married to a man who loves her? her 
blind inordinate passion for a young 
man whom she scarcely knows, whom 
she has never seen ? ” 

“I could understand it better, ’’replied 
Esther carelessly, “if she had known 
him for some time, or if her love dated 
from infancy.” 

“Ah 1” Henriette could not help say- 
ing. 

“And if the husband,” continued 
Claire Meunier, “instead of loving his 
wife, showed only indifference and cold- 
ness towards her.” 

“Is that a reason for unfaithful- 
ness?” asked the astonished young 
wife. 

“ When you reason, no. But vexation, 


166 


sorrow and passion do not reason. 
And moreover there are some thoughts- 
so sweet, so tender, and some compari- 
sons so dangerous that desire is- 
awakened and cannot be quieted.” 

She arose and, standing near the 
chimney, arranged some freshly cut 
flowers in a vase. Suddenly she turned 
towards Henriette and let fall these 
words : 

Monsieur Vandelle hitnts a good 
deal lately.” 

Apropos of what did you speak of 
Monsieur Vandelle?” asked the young 
wife raising her head . 

Apropos of a shot that was fired 
near the chateau,” responded Esther in 
a very natural tone. “Monsieur Yan- 
delle is in a hurry to rejoin us.” 

Approaching the glass door and step- 
ping out, she added : 

“I was not wrong; some one is com- 


167 


iiig through the park. Oh! but it is not 
he.’^ 

‘‘A visitor already?” said Henriette 
without leaving her seat; “the Mayor 
perhaps, added she smiling. 

“No,’ responded Esther, “it has just 
struck noon, and Monsieur Fourcanade 
must be a.t the depot. The train from 
Luchon is about due, and the Mayor 
told us he never missed a train now as 
he wanted to sa^^ adieu to the last 
Parisian detained in our mountains.” 

“Ah!” continued she, re-entering the 
salon and without loosing sight of 
Henriette, “I know who it is now. It 
is the 3"oung man who went away, three 
weeks ago,, the day after my arrival 
here, and who seemed so sorry to leave 
this house. But what is the matter 
with you, Madame?” 

“What is the matter with me?” asked 


1G8 


Henriette in a troubled manner. Why 
this question?’’ 

thought I saw 3^ou shiver,” replied 
Esther. ‘‘The open door perhaps.” 

“Yes; will yon please elose it? ” 

As Esther was shutting the door, a 
servant entered and, addressing Henri- 
ette, said : 

“Monsieur Olivier Deschamps asks if 
Madame will receive him.” 

“ Certainly. Show him in,” answered 
the young wife. 

Esther took from the table the novel 
which she had been reading aloud, andl 
seated herself at the far end of the: 
salon. 


CHAPTER X. 


Olivier had scarcely entered, when 
Madame Yandelle began to question 
him. 

‘‘Well, my friend,” asked she, “what 
news do you bring? Have you found 
the situation you desire?” 

“I have found nothing,” replied he. 
‘H have searched in vain through 
all the manufactories — everywhere the 
same answer: We have no need of any 
one. Vague promises of remembering 
me if in the future they needed anyone, 
which mean nothing and which have 
been forgotten before I have scarcely 
crossed the threshold. But I have not 
thought to enquire after your health. 
You look pale. Are \^ou ill ?” 


170 


‘^No, not at all, on the contrary, I am 
very well. Talk about ^^ourself. What 
are you going to do ? 

“ Return to Paris.’’ 

Ah ! you hope to find there — ” 

I hope through my friends to obtain 
a situation abroad.” 

“Abroad!” 

“Yes. Our school furnishes many 
engineers for distant countries where 
manufacturing interests are in their 
infancy.” 

“Leave France,” said she sadly, “and 
for so long? ” 

“For long, yes — forever perhaps. 
When one goes away can one tell if he 
will ever come back ?” 

“Alone, so far away, in an unknown 
country, amongst strangers.” 

“Alone there or here! It is not solL 
tude that frightens me. I would prefer 
to remain in this country near — near 


171 


Ihe home of my infancy. Since that is 
impossible, it makes little difference 
where I live.” 

Claire Meunier, who had not said a 
word since the arrival of Olivier and 
who had contented herself with observ- 
ing him from behind the book which 
«he pretended to be reading, said : 

‘^Pardon me, Madame, but I think 
heard someone say that there was a 
a vacancy in the factory of Monsieur 
Vandelle.” 

‘‘I know it. Mademoiselle,’’ answered 
Henriette dr^dy. 

‘‘Excuse me, I thought that perhaps 
you had forgotten it.” 

‘‘Thanks.” 

Olivier turned towards Claire. 

‘‘A place here?” asked he, astonished. 

“Yes,” replied Mile. Meunier, as she 
was addressed directly. “A position 
as engineer in the machine shop. I 

172 


heard Monsieur Vandelle speak of it 
only last evening.” She arose, placed 
her book on the table, and addressing^ 
Henriette, said : 

Will you permit me to leave you for 
an instant, Madame? The mail leaves> 
soon and I have a letter to write.” 

‘^Certainly, Mademoiselle.” 

When Madame Vandelle was alone 
with Olivier, she turned towards him 
saying ; 

‘‘I knew that there was a vacant 
place here. I hesitated, and I hesitate 
still to ask for it, because — but I am 
wrong, am I not? The past is really 
dead. We will both of us forget the 
words which escaped you a few days 
ago, and you will see in me only a sister^ 
a friend. What do 3^ou think of it^ 
Olivier? Can I ask for this place,, 
would you be glad to obtain it ? ” 


173 


Happy! living near you — can you 
doubt it?^^ 

‘‘No, if you talk so I will not ask for 
it. Say rather happy to have a posi- 
tion, to fulfill your duty.^’ 

“I promise you that no words will 
come from my lips which can offend 
you. I answer for myself, I am strong. 
Your friendship is too precious to be 
lost. But allow me to say that it 
would be a happiness to live near you. 
Is not a brother happy to live near his 
sister?” 

“If it is so, leave me, I hear my hus- 
band coming, and I desire to be alone 
with him when I talk about 3^ou. ” 


CHAPTER XL 


A few minutes later Henri Vandelle, 
having taken off his hunting costume, 
entered the salon. He hoped to find 
Esther Sandraz, but when he saw 
she was not there, he started to 
withdraw, after exchanging a few in- 
significant words with his wife. 

“ I beg YOU to give me your attention 
for an instant, my friend, said Henri- 
ette as he was going. 

He stopped, and turning around, said 
in a cross manner: 

“What do you want to sa^^ to me? ” 

“I want to beg you to give Monsieur 
Olivier Deschamps the vacant position 
of engineer in 3^our factory. “ 


175 


‘‘Again! ” said he. 

“When I spoke to 3^011 about him, 
three weeks ago, you said there was no 
place for him. Today, a position is 
vacant, and I demand it for my pro- 
tegee.’’ 

“This is a business matter, my dear, 
and it is not in your domain.” 

She arose, and, approaching him, re- 
plied : 

“No, for me it is not a business mat- 
ter. It is a question of friendship, of 
sympathy, and almost a duty. You 
are aware of the deep interest I take in 
this friend of my childhood. You know 
his merit, his worth — I will answer for 
his zeal, and I ask you from affection 
for Aie, as a personal favor, this place 
which is pledged to no one and which I 
desire for him.” 

He appeared to reflect for an instant 
and then answered : 


176 


‘‘I am sorry to refuse you, but for 
overlooking the machinery, a less expen- 
sive man will answer. I do not like the 
young college men, they are turned out 
overburdened with new theories and 
they upset the works in which they 
obtain positions.’^ 

“ We will say no more about it,*’ said 
she, moving towards the door. 

“ Believe me, I am sorry to refuse any 
request of yours.” 

“It is I who regret having troubled 
you,” replied she without turning her 
head. 

She went out through the door lead- 
ing into the garden, leaving her husband 
alone in the salon with Esther who had 
just entered and who had overheard the 
last words of the conversation. 


12 


177 


CHAPTER XII. 


Esther Sandraz followed Henrlette 
with her eyes. When she had disap- 
peared from sight in one of the paths 
of the park, she turned to Yandelle, and 
said : 

“Why did you refuse this young man 
a position in your factorj^? ” 

“Have you not divined the reason?” 

“No.” 

“From two motives.” 

“Which?” 

“In the first place,” said he walking 
up and down the room in an agitated 
manner, “because I think it unwise to 
have a spy about.” 

178 


“Acknowledge,” said she smiling, 
“that the position of a spy would be a 
sinecure.” 

“Well. But—” 

“But what ? ” 

“Nothing.” 

“I understand, you count on the 
future,” said Esther. 

“Oh! ” cried he, “if I did not look to 
the future — ” 

“You are wrong; the future will be 
exactly like the present.” 

“We will see!” said he meaningly. 

“It is all seen. What is the second 
motive? ” 

“ The second motive is that I am not 
disposed to be amiable.” 

“That fact is visible. Have you not 
had good luck hunting today? ” 

“Hunting ! ” 

“Certainly. Ah!” continued she, 
“ after what have you been ? ” 


- 179 


“You ask me that? ’’said he stopping 
before her. “ After you.” 

“After me! What have yoti to re- 
proach me with? Don’t I fulfill my 
duties as a companion well? Don’t I 
earn conscientiously my hundred and 
francs, my board and lodging? ” 

“Enough joking. If I had known, 
three weeks ago, that you came here to 
torture me — ” 

“For what purpose did you think I 
came ? What did you hope for ? That 
I would dispute about you with your 
wife, share you with her, play the role of 
a servant-mistress beside of the legiti- 
mate wife? For me, Esther Sandraz, 
such a role! Second sultana in the 
harem of Pacha Vandelle, in the 
Haute-Garonne ! It was really very 
stupid of you, my dear! How you 
have deteriorated since you left 
Paris!” 


180 


I proposed to you.that we should go 
away.” 

“To be deserted in six months or a 
year, when you had grown tired of this 
sentimental journey or when 3"our busi- 
ness called you back. No, thanks! I 
am not disposed to pose for a deserted 
Ariadne.” 

“Ah!” replied he drawing nearer her 
and trying to take her hand “I would 
never leave you.” 

“It is possible,” replied she disengag- 
ing herself. “Those who are left behind 
are not those who suffer the m ost, experi- 
ence has taught you that. You have 
discovered the force of certain at- 
tachments, the power of certain mem- 
ories. But what would you? I am 
distrustful, and besides— and besides, 
you are married, my dear; I do not 
poach on other peoples preserves.” 


181 


“Then, what is it you want?'' cried 
he. 

She looked at him, straight in his 
tyeSj and answered : 

“You know well enough, you said it 
afewminutes ago: to make a’^ou suffer.'^ 

He seized her fingers and grasped 
them nervously. 

“ How you hate me ! " said he. 

“ Yes, indeed," answered she laughing. 

“ Esther ! " cried he furiously. 

She laughed more gaily and more pro- 
vokingly than before. Behind her red 
lips, shone a set of teeth, admirable in 
form and purity. Her head was thrown 
back, and her whole body bent back- 
wards. She was only sustained by 
Vandelle who still held her fingers. 

Suddenly she recovered herself, and 
leaning towards her former lover, said: 

“There are some moments when you 


182 


could kill me with pleasure, are there 
not?’’ 

Oh yes ! ” cried he. 

You love me still, however? ” 

‘‘Do I love you ! ” 

“Well! you see — ” 

“What?” 

“That in hate there is still — ” 

“Finish the sentence! ” 

“Ah! ab ! ah! how nicely you were 
caught!” 

“You devil!” 

Discouraged, overcome by this strug- 
gle, he dropped her hands and fell into a 
chair. 



183 


CHAPTER XIII. 


She remained silent and motionless, 
awaiting until he recovered, that she 
might lead him on to a new struggle 
and inflict on him a new torture ; then 
gliding behind him, she put her hand on 
his shoulder and bent so that her head 
just touched him. 

‘‘Do you remember, Henri,’’ she said 
in a low caressing voice, “the house on 
the rue de Seze, the room with drawn 
curtains, the window where I used to 
watch for you ? Do you remember the 
arms which were held out to you, the 
eyes which searched for yours, the 
voice which said: Do not leave me yet?” 

Infatuated again by the souvenirs 


184 


which she evoked, by her unexpected 
tenderness, he tried to draw her to him, 
to take her in his arms. 

“Take care!” said she, with an air of 
modesty, “suppose your wife should 
come in ! Ido not want her to think 
that I have authorized 3^ou to pay me 
attention. Be careful, she would send 
me away. What would become of me 
then?” 

She stopped and then continued : 

Apropos of Madame Yandelle, I al- 
ways forget to say something; if is 
true that we arc rarely alone. She is 
charming, your wife; I took a good look 
at her 3^esterday, and I recognized that 
fact. Why do you not love her? Look 
me in the face! Am I more beautiful 
than she?” 

While so speaking, she drew herself 
up before him, her face animated, her 
eyes shining, a smile on her lips, sure oi 


1S5 


herself, and resplendent in her youth 
and beauty. 

“Oh !“ replied he putting his hands be- 
fore his eyes to shut out the sight. 
“Don’t look at me so! don’t ask me 
to look at you ! it makes me crazy!” . 

“ I know it, and for that very reason — 
replied she becoming again cold and 
mocking. 

“Still” cried he, “this same cruel rail- 
lery!” 

She sat down, turned around, and 
again becoming sentimental, said: 

“I dreamt of you last night; I saw 
you as you were formerly, when you 
filled m\^ heart, when the touch of 
your hand was enough to make me 
tremble. Oh! Henri, Henri, why did 
you allow me to go away? why did 3^ou 
leave me? why did 3^ou put this woman 
between us?” 

“Forget that she exists.” 


186 


■m 


“She exists all the same. And more- 
over, ’’said she changing her tone, “how 
do you know, even if you were free, that) 
I should care for you now ? ” 

“You are a living and implacable tor- 
ture,” cried he. “You play with me as a. 
tiger does with his prey. With a word, 
with a glance, you set me on fire. I be- 
gin to hope; I see Love’s light burning 
in your eyes; I throw myself forward, 
and an icy remark, a sardonic smile 
plunges me again into the depths of 
despair! ” 

“That is just what I desire.” 

“Will it always be so?” 

“Always.” 

“No! it shall not continue! This ex- 
istence must finish. With me or with- 
out me, you leave here.” 

“Bah!” 

“Yes, for I will confess all.” 

“ To your wife? It’s a good idea! I 


187 


-advise you to do so at once. It will be 
very amusing. I am curious to see the 
result.” 

As steps were heard in the next room, 
•she opened the glass door leading on to 
the terrace and went out, tranquilly, 
calmly, a book in her hand, after 
throwing a final glance full of defiance, 
>eit Vandelle. 



188 






CHAPTER XIV. 


She knew well enongh that he would 
not speak, for had he intended to, he 
would have done so at first, when he had 
searcely seen her and before he had sue-- 
cumbed to the old infatuation. He 
would have done so when he could have 
said to his wife: ^‘Yes, I loved, before 
knowing you, this woman who has the 
audacity to present herself here. I loved 
her still during the first months of our 
marriage, when I did not know you as 
I do today. Alas ! is one responsible for 
what is past ! In my weakness I wrote 
her some letters which today she threat- 
ens to show you unless I d o as she wishes.. 
But your grace, your beauty, your good- 


189 


ness have conquered me, and little by 
little I have forgotten the years which 
have passed and I live only in the present 
and for you. Forgive me, I beg, and no 
matter what this woman says or does, 
drive her from the house.” 

It was too late forhimtodo this now: 
Esther had entered the house with his 
consent; he had even had the infamy to 
give his former mistress a place at the 
conjugal hearth. 

And, while he thus became her accom- 
plice, he became also her slave, her being, 
her thing. He belonged to her with all the 
violence of his souvenirs, of his desires, 
fought against, contended with, re- 
pelled for two years, and which the 
sight of Esther had revived, more ardent 
than before. At the moment when her 
image, becoming indistinct, was about 
to be effaced, as the last fires of a set- 
ting sun disappear from the horizon, she, 


190 


reappeared suddenly, in all the splendor 
of her twenty-five years, in the perfec- 
tion of her beauty. It was not suffi- 
cient for her to appear superb, radiant, 
and lovely enough to be adored at first 
sight, but she brought with her the past. 
He did not see her as she was now, 
with her air of reserve, her modest de- 
portment, her toilet appropriate to her 
new position, her eyes cast down, with 
the humble mien of a dependant, but 
as memory painted her, with burning 
eye, mouth half-open, hair in disorder, 
bosom heaving; he heard her murmur 
tender words, he recalled her warm 
caresses. 

And, to calm the acuteness of these 
memories, to appease his heated blood, 
she promised nothing for the future; 
she said nothing which could make him 
forget the present and take refuge in 
hope. She seemed to sajy on the con- 
■191 




trary : “ See what I am; but remember ^ 

what I was; think what I could be, | 
if I would join the present with the | 
past, if I wished — but I do not wish — I j 
will never wish.” 

These last words he absolutely re- 
fused to hear. His self-love, his pride 
would not permit it! Never! How 
never? Would he admit that, after 
having loved him so much, she no longer 
loved him, that she was not tortured by 
the same thoughts as himself ? Yes. In 
punishing his treason, she suffered as 
well as he. .But the punishment was 
only for a time ; the pain soon passed. 
She wished to test him ; to enslave him 
entirely this time ; to make revolt for 
the future impossible. She loved him 
still. He desired to believe so, and the 
wish was father to the thought. 

Was he mistaken ? Did she really love 
him ? After two 3’ears of struggle, two 


years of efforts to forget him, had she 
at last been carried away by a wild 
desire to see him again? Did the 
past rise up before the mistress, as it 
rose before the lover? Or, as she de- 
clared, victorious over her memories^ 
sure of herself, prepared for a new 
struggle, did she think only of revenge ? 

If expiation was all she desired, she 
could boast of having imagined a very 
terrible torture for this man, whose 
body was the soul, and whom she 
cruelly struck in the flesh. 

However, she was less severe on her 
former lover, than he was on himself; 
she was content with living under his 
roof, a continual living reproach. If he 
had not known Esther Sandraz, he could 
not have addressed any reproach to 
Claire Mcunicr. She submitted to, rather 
than provoked, any converiration with 
him. It was Vandelle who sought 


her withont cease, who tried his best to 
meet her, to surprise her; always on the 
alert, always awaiting the hour when 
the long resistance would end in an 
embrace. 



194 


CHAPTER XV. 


One afternoon, as Vandelle was cross- 
ing the park, he perceived Esther San- 
draz leaving the chateau, and bending 
her steps towards a wide spreading elm 
tree under which Henriette and herself 
liked to sit during the warm part of the 
day. Esther was alone, Madame Van- 
delle having declared, at breakfast, that 
she had a headache and would pass the 
day in her room. 

It occurred to him at once that this 
was a good opportunity to have a long 
tete-a-tete with her who always shunned 
him. However, he did not join her im- 
mediately but, like a prudent man, decid- 
ed to give her time to install herself com- 


fortablv, so that she would be less likely 
to fly at his approaeh. He allowed a 
quarter of an hour to pass, then follow- 
ing the same path that Esther had 
taken, but shielding himself behind the 
trees, he reaehed her retreat, and hiding 
behind a elump of bushes, watehed her. 

Lueky it was that he had decided on 
this course for Esther, profiting from the 
liberty that Henriette had given her, 
persuaded that no one would trouble 
her in this quiet nook, and having no 
reason for not making herself comfort- 
able, instead of seating herself as usual ■ 
on a rustic bench, installed herself in a 
hammock which was suspended between 
two trees. Then, overcome by the heat, 
she grew drowsy. j 

Vandelle, holding his breath, regarded 
her ardently. From his hiding place he 
could see her clearly, and admire every, 
line of her gracious figure. j 


196 


r 


Thanks to the hammock, Esther was 
visible at a glance from head to foot. 
She was splendid so ; a ray of the snn, 
after having made a long white path 
through the foliage, pla3’ed about her 
face, in her hair and on her half naked 
arms which were thrown behind her head 
for a pillow. The long lashes of her half- 
closed e3^es cast a light shadow on her 
cheeks. Her half-opened mouth smiled 
voluptuously; perh aps she was dreaming 
of far-off loves. L3dng on her back, her 
full bosom appeared to have the firm- 
ness of marble, and the edge of her dress 
slightly raised permitted him to see a 
beautifull3^ formed plump leg. 

After admiring her face, V andelle was 
able, thanks to the hammock suspended 
between heaven and earth, to follow all 
the contours of her body, notice all the 
lines clearly defined by the tightly 
stretched canvass, which seemed to 


197 


1 


mould her as cla\^ moulds some wonder 
whose imprint the sculptor wishes to 
preserve. 

The white cloth of the hammock 
supporting this beautiful body, in dis- 
simulating its draper 3% gave to it the 
whiteness of marble, the nudity of a 
statue. 

He did not tire of watching her but 
his head troubled him. Everything in 
nature seemed combined to intoxicate 
him : the waves of warm light, the exha- 
lations of the sun-bathed earth, the low 
murmuring of insect life midst the wav- 
ing branches of the elm tree. 

He awaited, however, until Esther’s 
eyes should be entirely closed, until the 
nervous rise and fall of her bosom had 
given place to the calm and regular mo- 
tion of sleep ; then, leaving his place of 
concealment, he glided softh^ towards 
the hammock. 


198 


CHAPTER XVI. 


He was able to approaeh without 
waking her, to stand over her and to 
feast his eyes on the beauty of the 
woman he loved and desired. 

Suddenl3% carried away by an over- 
whelming rush of affection, he bent and 
kissed her. 

Esther awoke with a start. Her eyes 
expressed fear; and, as she could utter 
no sound, being, so to speak, gagged, 
she placed her hand against Vandelle’s 
breast and essayed to push him away. 
She succeeded in freeing herself to a cer- 
tain extent and cried: “Leave me, 
coward, or I will cry for help ! ’’ 


199 


She could not continue, as he seized 
her hands and silenced her with kisses. 

She made desperate efforts to escape 
him, or at least to turn her head to one 
side, but whoever has reposed in a ham- 
mock which is hung rather high, is 
aware of the fact that it is difficult to 
turn or descend to the ground even 
when no one holds you, and Esther 
found herself a captive in this canvass 
net which encircled her on all sides and 
in which she was detained by a strong 
and determined man. 

The struggle was unequal and she gave 
it up. Finding herself obliged to submit 
to Yandelle’s kisses, she decided to make 
the best of it. Then took place that 
strange phenomenon, often noticed 
among women — even the most affec- 
tionate; whether surprise, anger or in- 
dignation suddenly paralyze them or 
whether they have in themselves a 


200 


strength of will capable of dominating 
the violence of their temperament, they 
become sometimes, either involuntarily 
or of their own will, as cold and icy, as 
at another time they are loving and de- 
monstrative. Woman, doubtless be- 
cause she is feeble, has an instinctive 
horror of violence. She will willingly 
give her love but will not permit it to 
be stolen. More than one man has seen 
a victory he thought assured, escape 
him because he has tried to force his end. 

To the repugnance and anger of 
Esther at seeing herself so brusquely at- 
tacked, to the disgust which Yandelle 
at that moment inspired in her, was 
added another motive for passive resist- 
ance or cold resignation. If she re- 
sponded to the caresses of her former 
lover, she would soon succumb entirely, 
and her vengeance would escape. The 
days and nights of struggle and immo- 


201 


iation, two 3^ears passed in the en- 
deavor to dnll memory, to kill love, a 
thousand efforts, a thousand sufferings, 
would become effaced and useless in an 
instant. A moment of folly would be 
sufficient to unite the present with the 
past. She would recompense Vandelle 
whom she had come hither to punish; 
he would rejoice instead of suffer. 

So renouncing a dangerous struggle, 
she submitted to the kisses forced upon 
her, but did not return them. Her teeth 
were tightl}’' shut, her lips remained 
obstinately closed, cold, dry, inert, and 
Vandelle felt as if he had pressed his 
mouth to that of a coipse. 

Astonished, startled, he drew back his 
head to look at her; Esther’s cheeks 
were colorless, her e3^es dull and expres- 
sionless, in them he could read neither 
defiance, desire, or the joy of triumph. 

Chilled by her manner and not daring 


202 



to touch her again, he stepped aside and 
Esther immediately profited by the 
movement to spring from the hammock; 
then free, she walked away without 
once condescending even to glance at 
him. 



203 





V’-: ..-.c 


CHAPTER 


The vengeance of Esther had taken a 
new and unexpected form. It had 
never occurred to Mile. Sandraz that 
she would be called upon to play the 
role of a statue, indeed she would have 
thought herself utterly incapable of 
playing such a part ; and, when she had 
asked herself with a certain inquietude 
. what would become of her if Vandelle, 
strong in the strength of his past suc- 
cess, was to show himself too auda- 
cious, she now suddenl}^ found in her- 
self the strength to resist all attacks, 
provided with such weapons of defense 
^s rendered herself all powerful. 

Her assurance grew with her victor3^ ; 


204 


since she had been able to resist the first 
assault, she hoped to be the victor in 
all others. She was no longer forced ta 
be prudentl^^ reserved, to forego all co- 
quetting, she could permit herself to be 
admired without danger since she re- 
mained insensible to that admiration 
and could prevent it’s passing the limits 
she had assigned. 

She thus added the refinement of 
cruelty to her vengeance ; inactive before, 
it now became militant. She engaged 
her adversary and measured her 
strength with his, exciting herself with 
the combat, she would fight with cold- 
blooded impassibility against his auda- 
city and ardor. Struggles had always 
had an attraction for this strange girl, 
who, as we have seen, tamed vicious 
horses, climbed mountains and braved 
the sea when she was only twenty. 

Of a vivid imagination, the activity 


205 


of which had been auginented by the 
abstinence she had practiced, she found 
a certain pleasure in wearing hair-cloth, 
in lacerating her flesh and in conquering 
her senses. Sometimes sensualit3^ hides 
under asceticism. 

Vandelle ought soon to give her 
another occasion of triumphing over 
herself. His first defeat had not dis- 
couraged him ; he considered it a slight 
skirmish in which he had been taken hj 
surprise. He would soon engage in a 
great battle, confident of the victory. 


206 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


A great general could not have better 
arranged his plan of action. He select- 
ed with care the ground, the day and 
the hour. He even went so far as to 
consult the barometer, because he de- 
sired, for fighting adYantageousl3^ to 
have the best atmospheric conditions 
as his past feminine experiences had 
taught him that the condition of the 
sky and the direction of the wind pla3^ed 
a great part in the history of woman. 
Wet and rainy weather make them 
lazy, indolent and apathetic : fatigued 
without exercise, sad without reason, 
and melancholy without cause, the3" de- 
sire solitude and sleep. Dr3^ weather, 



207 


on the contrar^v, and a strong north- 
east wind warm the blood, quicken the 
circulation, excite the nervous system 
and urges one to look for one’s Alter Ego 
to counteract this effect ; to scratch or to 
love if one is of a lovable disposition. 
When there is electricity in the air, it is 
different: one is no longer contented 
with scratching ; one wishes to bite, to 
fight or to be fought ; to seek a quarrel 
with the most inoffensive people; to em- 
brace an adored friend, to cry out, 
laugh, or weep. Ordinarily women com- 
mit their first indiscretion during stormy 
weather. This fact they remember, and 
they think the sky was their accomplice; 
this consoles them, but the sky must 
have a heavily laden conscience. 

Therefore, Vandelle,. like a man who 
has tried everything, like a player who 
holds all the trumps, chose a stormy 
day to continue the struggle. 


208 


He thought that he ought to take ad- 
vantage of a journey that Henriette 
made to Lvichon, where someiof her rel- 
atives lived. During the first two da3^s 
of her absence, Vandelle lamented the 
serenity of the sky, the placidity of the 
atmosphere, which did not assist him, 
and perhaps might hinder him from 
profiting from so good an opportunity. 
But, on the afternoon of the third day, 
light clouds gathering from Spain quick- 
veiled the mountains, the air be- 
came heavy and suffocating, and every- 
thing announced the approach of one of 
those tempests so frequent among the 
Pyrenees. 

Soon thunder was heard in the dis- 
tance, the mountain echoes prolonging 
for some time, the noise, and sharp fre- 
quent flashes of lightning made furrows 
in the clouds. 

Towards evening the storm was at 

209 

14 


its height. Esther Saiidraz did noteonie 
down^to dinner; she excused herself with 
the pretext that the weather had given 
her a headache; but Vandelle knew that 
she was awake, for from the park he 
could see lights in her room. 

He awaited until the servants had re- 
tired, and then, walking on tip-toe, he 
carefully ascended the stairs. 

Reaching the second floor, he went out 
on the balcoii}^, which ran around the 
building, and. so was able to reach the 
windows of Esther’s room. He found 
them closed; but the dormer-window, 
which was beyond and which opened 
into a dressing-room, was half-open. 
Suffocated by the heat of this stormy 
evening, but not daring to open the bal- 
cony window, Mile. Sandraz had 
opened the door leading into her boudoir 
and thus received indirectl3" the air. 

Vandelle, without hesitating (he had 


210 


decided on everything, perhaps even a 
a scandal), entered the boudoir, and, 
holding his breath, approached the 
door of communication and looked into 
the adjoining room, 

Esther had her back turned, but he 
could see her reflected in the glass over 
the chimney. Standing, wrapped in a 
muslin peignoir, she was arranging her 
hair for the night ; her arms, naked to 
the shoulder, were raised behind her 
head, while her agile fingers arranged 
her hair. Her glance had a vague, lan- 
guishing aspect, and her half-open lips 
seemed agitated with a voluptuous 
shiver. 

To better combat the heat, she had 
taken off her corsets and her starched 
petticoats, but the floating material 
which enveloped her did not expose her 
figure, and Vandelle could not have pic- 
tured it in his imagination, if the past, 


211 


rising sudclenh^ before him, had not re- 
vealed to him all the splendors form- 
er! 3^ contemplated. 

The storm had left the mountains to 
descend, into the valle3% the flashes of 
lightning becoming more vivid and the 
room being at times illuminated, the 
muslin pefgno/r became more transpa- 
rent, and at intervals, like a sudden 
vision, Esther appeared in all her nudity. 

The supple and powerful lines of her 
body were clearly designed, bending in 
at the waist, but swelling out at the 
bosom and thighs. Her skin glittered 
in the blue glare of the lightning, and, 
under the influence of electric currents, 
seemed traversed by rapid quivers. She 
was at once both goddess and woman ; 
goddess from the grandeur of the scene 
which surrounded her, from her sculpt- 
ural figure, the harmony of her lines, and 
her regal grace ; woman, when her body 


212 



trembled, quivered, and displayed itself 
in its soft voluptuousness. 

Suddenly the lightning struck near the 
chateau, and Esther, overcome by fear, 
turned towards the door to close it. 
Vandelle, finding himself discovered, 
sprang forward and clasped her in his 
arms. 



213 


CHAPTER XIX. 


vSlie appeared neither frightened or 
surprised. Perhaps she had expected 
this sudden interruption, this brusque 
attack; perhaps, she had divined Yan- 
delle’s project, and, sure of herself, cer- 
tain of not succumbing in the struggle, 
had bravely awaited it. 

She neither cried out or made any 
effort to escape from the brutal embrace 
of her former lover. She lay motion- 
less in his arms, and contented herself 
with braving his glance and smiling 
ironically. She seemed to say ; “Well, 
you have your wish. I am in 3^our 
power, disarmed, and without the 
strength to resist you. I am yours, do 


214 


with me whatever you desire; do not 
forget, however, that I am an inani- 
mate being, a body without a soul. I 
am the matter; to animate me, the 
power of the materialist or the divine 
inspiration of the spiritualist is neces- 
sary. Love me, I defy you.^^ 

He had not yet understood, had not 
divined what had passed within her, 
and he had never measured the strength 
of resistance which is in a woman de- 
termined in her obstinacy, sure of her- 
self because she had alread3^ triumphed, 
and eager for revenge. Recalling the 
past, he always thought that she would 
become again what she had been; he 
judged her b3" himself: he had loved her 
only with his senses, and his senses still 
ruled him. He forgot that Esther had 
loved him formerl3^ with all her heart, 
and that the heart was now lacerated, 
and her senses slept. 


215 


He, however, still held her in his arms 
and tried to revive her, but he did not 
succeed. The day, when having surprised 
her in the hammock, he had tried to 
make her eyes ardent and her lips 
amorous, his efforts had been in vain. 
This time it was not her mouth, her 
glance or her face which were impas- 
sible, but her body, her entire body. 
Her bosom preserved its marble-like im- 
^ passibility , her waist its stiffness, and her 
arms hung listlessly down; no quiver 
of desire ran over her skin, and when 
he lifted his e3^es to hers, he always met 
her ironical smile, her steady gaze. 

He hoped, at least, to move her by 
his words. He depicted his sufferings, 
his tortures ; he said that he would die ; 
that he would kill himself, if she no 
longer loved him. His words were really 
eloquent, passionate and burning. She 
listened to him without interruption. 


216 


r 


still silent, still impassible, still smiling. 

He cried like a child ; she watched him 
cry. .Purions, he raised her from the 
floor and threw her on a sofa; she fell in 
a heap, or rather tumbled, as a statue 
of Venus, overturned from its pedestal, 
falls. 

Then he became afraid of this inertia, 
of this steady glance, of this mouth half- 
open from which no breath seemed to 
come out, of this silence which sur- ^ 
rounded him, of this corpse-like rigidity. 

He perceived himself a second time de- 
feated, incapable of struggling longer, 
or of triumphing over the calculated 
and instinctive resistance of this woman 
of fire metamorphosized into a woman 
of ice. 


217 


1 


CHAPTER XX. 


The storm had ceased; in the moun- 
tains only could be heard heavy rum- 
bles, like far off and faint echoes which 
still are heard when silence has reigned 
for some time. All the clouds had fled, 
leaving a deep blue sky, studded with 
bright stars, which seemed to increase 
in number and brightness. A full 
moon, surrounded by a large luminous 
circle, gilded some light vapors which the 
storm had forgotten to carry off in its 
flight. The mountains appeared, as 
clearly designed as in da^dight, with 
their salient angles and their snowy sum- 
mits tinted like gold by the lights from 
the sky. From the moist earth, from the 


218 


grass in the valley, and from the leafy 
thickets, arose a thousand perfumes. 
In the large trees in the park the birds, 
whom the storm had kept awake, and 
whom the clearness of the night now 
hindered from sleeping, sang, relating 
their fears during the tempest, and 
giving a nocturnal concert. Nature was 
appeased; noise, disorder and horror 
had been succeeded by repose, harmony 
and serene beauty. 

Esther, aJone now, opened her window 
and, leaning on the sill, could enjoy the 
splendor of this beautiful night, while 
relishing her new triumph. It was com- 
plete : she had vanquished her memories 
and her past; her senses attempted per- 
haps to revolt against the constraint 
which she had imposed on them. Ah! 
she was well revenged, so well revenged 
indeed that she no longer even thought 
of taking vengeance, as she had at first. 


210 


planned, on this Henriette de Loustal 
who had stolen her lover, her future 
husband - 

And yet, Henriette had done noth- 
ing to soften her, to inspire in her some 
pity or some sympathy. From instinct, 
and from intuition, she had treated 
Esther, if not harshly, at least without 
affability. She had not tried to make 
of her either a friend or a confident ; she 
had considered her only in the light of a 
companion, nearly a servant. Esther 
had been submissive from force of cir- 
cumstances. 

However, Henriette would have need 
of an ally: forsaken by her husband, 
bruised, disdained and nearly hated, her 
glances had turned towards Olivier, the 
companion of her childhood, the friend 
of her youth. According to Esther, 
who had succumbed without long 
resistance, on the day when she per- 




220 


ceivecl herself in love with Vandelle;: 
according to Esther, brought np by a 
too feeble mother and thrown at an 
early age on her own resources, daring 
from her birth and, on account of her 
education, having only an imperfect idea 
of duty, rebellious at understanding 
certain sacrifices and self-denials, Hen- 
riette must have fallen or be on the 
point of falling. 

But of what importance was this 
struggle now to her? Could she open 
the eyes of Vandelle? Why should she 
separate them forever? Did not Van- 
delle belong to her for life, and had she 
not, in reviving the past, in giving him 
her body, raised an insuperable barrier 
between them ? 

And this young wife, of what crime 
was she guilty? In marrying Vandelle^ 
had she been conscious of the wrong 
she was doing Esther, or of the despair 


221 


■1 


into which she plunged her? She had, 
it is true, acted coldW towards her com- 
panion. Claire Meunier might have been 
Avonnded ; Esther Sandraz had not been 
touched. Does an actress, when off the 
stage, bear an 3^ resentment against an 
actor, who the night before, in play- 
ing his part, had mortally injured her; 
Esther wore a mask which could be 
cuffed with impunity, without touch- 
ing the cheek. 

Unhappily for Henriette, she was 
about to cruelly wound Esther San- 
draz. 



222 


CHAPTER XXI. 


One evening in September, Monsieur, 
Madame and Mademoiselle Fourcanade 
were visiting at the chateau. 

The evenings, in this mountainous 
country, were commencing to become 
cool, and so large fagots were burn- 
ing brightly in the fire-place in the 
grand salon where the Y andelles received 
their guests. 

Madame Fourcanade, her daughter 
Angelique, Henriette and Claire Meu- 
nier, seated near a large table, were 
talking and working, Vandelle, seated 
in an eas^" chair at the other end 
of the salon, appeared to be listen- 
ing to Monsieur Fourcanade who was 


223 


taking him into his confidence, while 
really watching Esther, whose fea- 
tures, lighted by the flames, stood out 
boldly in the semi-obscurity. 

“Angelique, my child,’’ said her 
mother, ‘‘why don’t you amuse your- 
self looking at some pictures? It is 
well for a young girl to be occupied.” 

“With pleasure, mamma,” replied 
Angelique, “but I have no pictures to 
look at.” 

Madame Fourcanade, turning to 
Mile. Meunier begged her to give an 
album to her daughter. 

Esther took a large book from a 
neighboring table and, handing it to 
Angelique, said: 

“Here is Le Tour du Monde, Made- 
moiselle, in which you will find some 
instructive engravings.” 

“No savages, are there?” asked the. 
ma^’oress in terror. 


“No, Madame, no savages,” replied 
Esther smiling. 

“Good. Savages are not always 
proper for 3"Oung ladies to look at.” 

As Angelique turned over the leaves^ 
of the book near the window that 
she might have the benefit of the last 
rays of the setting sun, her mother who 
thought that she ought not to allow 
the conversation to drop, and who had 
a talent for transitions, said to Henri- 
ette : 

“Monsieur Vandelle does not travel 
much now.” 

“Very rarely,” answered Henriette. 

“You have made a good conversion. 
You should be proud of it.” 

Then, after being sure that neither 
her daughter or the master of the house 
could overhear her, she leaned towards 
the young wife and, lowering her voice, 
said : 

225 


15 


I speak of conversion it is because 
Monsieur Yandelle, before his marriage, 
passed for a mauvais sujet far worse 
than my husband. They say that he 
led in Paris a life — I know that your 
tutor has well instructed you, dear 
Madame, otherwise believe me, I would 
not speak of such little things. 

Leaning forward still more, so that 
she could only be heard by Henriette 
and Esther, she added confidentially: 
*^‘It seems that he had a nearly serious 
passion, a very intimate liaison with a 
foreigner, a Portuguese, I believe. She 
came to France, with her mother, look- 
ing for a fortune, and had, so they say, 
an idea of marrying him.’^ 

“I know it,’’ responded Henriette 
continuing her work, while Esther San- 
draz, pale and moved, stopped hers, and, 
listened attentively to the conversation. 

My tutor spoke about this person to 


226 


Monsieur Vandelle who acknowledged 
frankly his past folly. But I do not 
think that he ever had any idea of 
marr3dng her. Can one marr\^ such 
women?” 

Esther appeared to suppress an 
angiw ni o vement . 

‘‘ And were you not jealous of this 
past love?” asked Madame Fourcanade. 

“Jealous! What was there in com- 
mon between us? I pit}^ with all my 
heart the unfortunate ones about 
whom we are talking, and I feel still 
more sympathy for them than disgust. 
But if he, to whom I have given my 
hand and my faith, should so far forget 
his dignit\^ and honor, or should fall so 
low as to give to me for a rival, to me 
his wife, a creature of this kind, my 
contempt for him would be greater 
than for her, and I would not even do 
him the honor of suffering.” 


227 


“ Really ! ” murmured Esther, upright 
and trembling. 

“What did 3"ou say, Mademoiselle 
asked Madame Vandelle raising her 
head. 

“Nothing, Madame,” answered 
Claire Meunier, reseating herself. “I 
did not speak.” 

“I am not like you,” said the mayor- 
ess. ‘‘I have been jealous of all women, 
even the servants, and, if Monsieur 
Fourcanade had taken for a mistress 
the worst of these, even a Portuguese, 
no consideration of dignity could have 
prevented me from tearing out the e^^es 
of the guilty ones.” 

“You can be jealous of a servant,” 
observed Henriette, “if she is honorable. 
The maid, whom poverty has forced 
to serve us, is above those intriguing 
women who have but one end: to 


228 


marry and to occupy the position of 
honest women.” 

Madame Fourcanade raising her 
voice cried : 

‘‘ Angelique, look at the pictures.” 

“Yes, mamma,” replied the obedient 
Angelique, who was all the while listen- 
ing attentively to the conversation. 

The mayoress turned again to 
Madame Vandelle. 

“Perhaps you are a little severe on 
this — young lad3" — as they called her in 
the capital,” added she, trying to smile 
ingeniously. “I have heard it afhrmed 
that she was formerly received in 
Parisian society, and that she had good 
manners and a fine education — ” 

Henriette stopped her and answered, 
with the severit3^ of a young girl, 
brought up in the country, and the bru- 
tality of a chaste woman : 

“She is none the less guilty! Her 


229 


past, her education should have pre- 
served her from a shameful fall. But I 
know her of whom we are speaking 
better than you do ; you are not the 
first one who has talked to me about 
her. Recently, at Luchon, one of my 
friends spoke of her. She called herself 
Esther Sandraz, I believe, and made 
a scandal in Paris by her eccentricities, 
her extravagance, and her loud toilets. 
She was not highly esteemed even before 
her disgrace. As to her downfall it must 
have been premeditated — Monsieur Van- 
delle was rich at that time — it was a vil- 
lainous calculation, an odious bargain.’^ 
Esther arose, menacing and terrible ; 
but the obscurity had increased around 
her by degrees, the flames in the fire- 
place no longer threw out an\" light, 
and so neither the change in her expres- 
sion and deportment, or the strange- 
ness of her manner could be marked, 


230 


and when an instant later, a servant 
brought in a lamp, she had recovered 
her composure. 

Soon Monsieur Fourcanade, who had 
heard the whistle of the train and at 
the same time looking at his watch to 
see if it was on time, joined his wife and 
respectfully observed to her that it was 
time to leave. 

Angelique had just become interested 
in the pictures ; she was looking at a 
scantily clothed African colony; so she 
said : 

‘‘But, papa, it is only nine o’clock.’’ 

“My child,” replied Monsieur Four- 
canade in a positive manner, “it is a 
quarter past nine, for the train is just 
leaving.” 

“ Let us imitate the train,” added the 
mayoress, who thought she was saying 
something witty. 

She took leave of Henriette and 


231 


marclied majestically towards the door 
followed by her daughter and husband 
who carried a cane, an umbrella, a 
lantern, the needlework of the ladies, 
and some shawls. 

Yandelle, with the pretex of accom- 
panying the Foureanade tribe, went 
out with them, while Henriette went to 
her room. 


232 


CHAPTER XXII. 


A quarter of an hour later, Henri 
Vandelle returned to the salon and 
found Esther there, nervous and agita- 
ted. 

She seemed to have made up her mind 
as soon as she saw him, and going 
straight to him said : 

“Have you not a position of engineer 
still vacant in 3^our factor^" ? ” 

‘‘Yes,” answered he astonished. 
“Does Madame Vandelle continue to 
ask it for Monsieur Olivier Deschamps ? ” 
“Yes, she insisted on obtaining it for 
him even today. 

“You refused her request ? ” 

“Yes.” 


233 


^‘On the contrary, you must grant 
what she desires,” said she briefly, 
trembling all over. 

“Why? I do not understand,” replied 
he more and more astonished. 

“You don’t need to understand,” re- 
plied she. “Give this place in question 
to the young man, I wish it.” 

“ But — ” stammered he. 

“Ah! you must have explanations,” 
cried she suddenly. “Is it absolutely 
necessary that you understand? Well, 
so be it ! Winter is approaching, and it 
will be tiresome among your mountains, 
in your chateau ; this young man is 
charming, and will help us pass the 
time.” 

He became as pale as she. 

“Ah! that is the reason,” replied he, 
“ why you ask for this place. You have 
not then made me suffer enough? You 


234 


desire now to add the torture of jeal- 
ousy !” 

She laughed nervously and replied : 

“Ah ! Ah ! he thinks I am in love with 
this gentlemen! as if I could love now! 
I made a calculation when I submitted 
m3^self to you — I concluded a bargain — 
I sold myself.” 

“Who said that?” 

“Your wife! She said it here a few 
minutes ago, in this very room, before 
me. And I listened, in silence, without 
replying. What could I have answered ? 
She was perhaps right, and I bear her 
no ill feeling, since I plead her cause 
with you, since I wish for her happi- 
ness.” 

“ Her happiness ? ” 

“Without doubt. Ah! he sees noth- 
ing;. they are all alike.” 

“ Well, what do you mean ?”' 

“I mean,” replied she no longer able to 


235 


Iceep from laughing, ‘‘that your Henri- 
ette, so severe, so hard, so cruel to- 
wards me, loves Monsieur Olivier Des- 
champs.” 

“She!” 

“ Yes, she. Will you maintain that 
'she is too honest, too virtuous for that ; 
that she cannot commit a fault, that I 
am the only one that can ? Let us see if 
she has a monopoly of virtue ! Ah ! she 
insulted me, she spoke of Esther San- 
draz as a perdue^ as a courtesan, as 
a woman of the town. I hope to see 
her love in her turn, and to succumb; 
I hope that she will have less disgust 
for me ; I hope in fact, that Olivier Des- 
champs will come to live here, breathe 
the same air as she, and seduce her as I 
bave been seduced.” 

“And I?” asked Vandelle. 

“Ah! yes, it is true — I did not think 
of you. Well, my dear, that will be a 


new form of vengeance on yon, I had 
not thought of that. I disdained your 
wife, but she attacked me, she outraged 
me and in taking revenge on her, I will 
also revenge m3"self on her husband.. 
You have deserted, betrayed and ruined 
me, trampled me under foot, and 
crushed me to make a good marriage^ 
to wed fortune and virtue. Your for- 
tune, keep it, you offered it to me 
before but I don’t wiyh it. As to the 
virtue of your wife, don’t count too 
much on that — she will escape you; 
I hope she will escape 3^ou. So it is set- 
tled — tomorrow the old friend of 
Madame Vandelle will be your guest, 
or I will depart and you will never see 
me again. You will not even have 
the consolation of thinking that some 
day perhaps the past will reappear.” 

She accompanied thesfe words with a 


237 


long steady glance and went out, leav- 
ing him to his reflections, without 
wishing to hear him. 




238 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


He was stunned by this torrent of 
words, astounded hj this unexpeeted 
scene, and terrified these new preten- 
tions of Esther. 

It was folly, pure folly ! The relative 
isolation to which Mile. Sandraz had 
condemned herself and her sudden trans- 
plantation to a half-savage countr}", the 
constraint which she imposed on her- 
self and the abstinence to which, from a 
spirit of revenge, she had sentenced her- 
self, all her suppressed aspirations and 
her unsatiated desires, had at last pro- 
duced in her a profound pertubation. Her 
brain was diseased and it would be 
dangerous for Vandelle to obey her 


239 


lucubrations, or to follow her to the 
point where she wished to drag him. 

He walked up and down the salon 
while thinking of these things, talking 
aloud and gesturing wildly, as if he 
was himself becoming crazy. 

Suddenly he stopped in the midst of 
his tempestuous course, remained an 
instant on the same spot, and then, mov- 
ing slowly towards an easy-chair near 
the fire-place, sat down and broached 
new ideas, which if not wiser ones^ 
were at least more calm. 

After all, what was it that Mile. San- 
draz demanded? She wished Olivier 
Deschamps to have the position of en- 
gineer in the factory ; but this was pre- 
cisely what Madame Vandelle had been 
asking for so long, and what he had re- 
fused to grant from pure caprice and 
from a spirit of contrariness, for he really 
needed an engineer and this 3^oung man 


240 




had the best of recommendations. He 
was therefore going to willingly grant 
to his former mistress the place solicited 
by his wife, if Esther was interested in 
Olivier Deschamps only because he was 
a graduate of the Central school. But 
she was giving him a part to play, not 
only in the factory but in the chateau, 
not only among the workmen but near 
Madame Yandelle. Henriette was not 
favoring an employee without a place, 
she was interesting herself in a young 
amiable man who pleased her, and 
Esther pretended to befriend their 
amours. Should he not therefore refuse 
with indignation the requests made of 
him, and close his door on this dis- 
guised engineer? 

After deep reflection, after turning 
over and over in his mind the question, 
he reached the conclusion that he had 
exaggerated the matter, and that he had 


16 


241 


not reasoned with sufficient calmness. 
Mile. Sandraz was not competent to 
understand Madame Vandelle; she 
credited her with intentions, and 
with aspirations absolutely unworthy 
of her. Henriette, deserted as she was, 
abused as she perceived herself to be, 
was not a womaji to fail in her duty. 
He no longer loved her, perhaps he had 
never loved her, but he would do her that 
justic'e. He could without danger in- 
troduce Olivier Deschamps into his 
house; Henriette would not fail him, he 
could answer for her. 

If, however he was mistaken? Sup- 
posing Henriette should be drawn 
more strongly towards her old com- 
panion than he supposed, than she her- 
self thought; supposing she hoped to 
find in him a refuge, to console her- 
self near him for her mistaken love, 
her deceiving dreams, and for his de- 


242 


sertion. Should he not then protect her 
against herself, and remove her from all 
danger of doing wrong ? Surely, it was 
his duty ! It must be that Esther had 
lost her reason and thought him some- 
what unbalanced himself, to have 
spoken as she did, and order him to 
commit a dishonorable action. 

He had left his seat near the fire-place 
and had recommenced his promenade, 
more agitated arid more excited than 
ever. This had resulted from his being 
forced to acknowledge that Esther had 
judged him well. Yes, he was out of his 
head, above all since his last defeat; his 
vanity, his wounded pride, and his 
mortified senses irritated him, agitated 
him beyond measure, and drove him 
mad. He had only one idea: to triumph 
over the resistance of Esther, to over- 
come her coldness, and animate this 
marble statue. 


243 


He did not know how to accomplish 
it; he now doubted his own ability and 
was afraid of being vanquished again, 
He thought of her without cease, he 
saw her in her room just as he had con- 
templated her, just as he had pressed 
her in his arms, and far from perceiving 
himself calmed by her indifference, from 
being cooled by her coldness, he felt him- 
self more excited than before, and 
more beset by ardent covetousness. 

And she had just showed him the 
means of ending his long martyrdom, of 
obtaining the victory- after so many de- 
feats, and of receiving the ardently de- 
sired recompense, the appeasement suc- 
ceeding a mortal eneravation. Yes; 
if he should give her the chance of re- 
venging herself on her who had outraged 
her, she would consent to become 
softened, to revive the past, and to re- 
suscitate her dead voluptuousness. 


244 


But it was exactly this hope, this 
promise which frightened and disgusted 
the remnants of his conscience. Henri- 
€tte would run no risk, her virtue was 
beyond danger. He could safely give 
Olivier Deschamps the position de- 
manded for him^ but he must not sub- 
mit to the solicitations of Esther, or 
accept the bargain which she had pro- 
posed to him. 

Resolved this time, and decided not to 
succumb to a wrong and criminal temp- 
tation, he left the salon and went to his 
apartments. 

A letter had been left on the table in 
his sleeping room during the evening. 
He opened it and read : 

‘‘Sir: In the conversation which we 
had duriiag the day, I did not dare to 
say certain things, which, after reflec- 
tion, I thought best to write you : Ac- 
cording to my marriage contract, half 


245 


of the mill which you direct belongs to 
me. Such being the case, don’t you 
think that you are really a little too 
disobliging in persisting to refuse me the 
favor which I have asked of you : 
namely, to give a position in the fac- 
tory to a man who can be of great 
service to us, m3^ old friend, Olivier 
Deschamps?” 

“ Ah ! ” cried he, interrupting the read- 
ing, “she wishes it, it is she who desires 
it! It is she who declares war! ” 


END OF PART TWO. 





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CHAPTER I. 

Winter has arrived. The plains which 
surround Montrejeau, and the neigh- 
boring hills are covered with deep snow, 
soon hardened by the stubborn north- 
west wind. The distant mountains, 
formerly green and whose summits 
alone, with their eternal snow, recalled 
winter, have become white in a night ; 
the trunks of several gigantic pine^ and 
some boulders too perpendicular for the 
snow to cling to, cast the only shadows 
on this uniform scene. The glaciers, 
recognizable in summer by the reflec- 
tion and by their slightly grayish color, 
are now confounded with the meadows, 


249 


the bushes, the snowy clumps, and have 
a whitish tint from the mountains. 

Silence reigns around the chateau. 
The only sound heard is the monoto- 
nous noise of the Neste rolling impetu- 
ously down the rocks before emptying 
into the Garonne which, swelled by 
these waters, loses its tranquility and 
changes from a quiet stream into a vast 
torrent. 

Sometimes also, at certain hours, the 
roaring noise of the factory makes 
itself heard, announces its vitality and 
throws suddenly a clamorous note into 
the deep silence of nature, and this 
noise, transmitted by the snow, is 
prolonged into infinity. 

The railroad, deprived of part of its 
traffic, seems to sleep. It reposes after 
its summer activity and after the lively 
motion which, during the season 
of summer resorts, has reigned on its 


250 


rails. At long intervals, the whistle of 
an engine is heard and a train stops at 
Montrejean ; very few passengers, how- 
ever, descend to warm themselves in the 
buffet, and never now is a Parisian seen ; 
therefore Monsieur Fourcanade, de- 
prived of his habitual pleasure, no longer 
runs to the station, but taking refuge in 
the cafe at Montrcjeau and faithful to 
his political customs, plays billiards 
and gains some votes for his favorite 
candidate in the coming election. 

The chateau has a most somber as- 
pect, the paths in the park have disap- 
peared beneath the snow, and the great 
salon is silent and deserted. 

Henri Vandelle, melancholy and taci- 
turn as the weather, remains shut up in 
his room when he is not hunting. Es- 
ther Sandraz also stays in her room, 
sitting with Henriette only when she is 
summoned by her. 


251 


Such appeals are more and more rare, 
cas Madame Vandelle passes entire days 
without seeking the society of her com- 
panion, or asking Esther to read to her. 
She does not retire to her room after 
breakfast, like Mile. Meunier, but re- 
mains in the little salon and passes 
liours at a time lying on a lounge 
Euried in thought. 

Her health appears to resent this 
Eodily prostration and this activity of 
mind; her complexion has lost its 
former brilliancy, for her blood courses 
less freely beneath the skin and a blue 
<!ircle surrounds her eyes, her lips are 
discolored and dry, and remain firmly 
closed instead of smiling. 

The body itself has grown thin, and the 
‘exquisite roundness of her bosom has 
diminished and tends to disappear. She 
is still adorable, more adorable in her 
tsemi-languor than when she was in the 


252 


full enjoyment of health and strength; 
but it was easy to foresee that if this 
life was prolonged, her beauty would 
suffer. 


CHAPTER II. 

About four o’clock one afternoon to- 
wards the last of November, Henriette, 
buried in thought, did not hear the step 
in the hall of the chateau or notice the 
entrance of Olivier Deschamps. 

“I beg your pardon,” said he on per- 
ceiving her, “I did not know you were 
here.” 

”What do you want?” asked she 
quickly. 

'‘To speak with Monsieur Vandelle. ” 
replied Olivier. 

‘‘He is not here.” 

“Will he return soon? ” 

“I don’t know. He does not inform 


254 


me of his movements. You know that 
Yery well.’’ 

Astonished at her tone and the dry- 
ness of her answers, he approached her 
timidh’^ and in a sad, sweet voice said: 

^‘What is the matter with you ? Do 
you suffer? ” 

‘‘No,” answered she with impatience. 

“Then you are angry with me? ” 

“ With you ? no.” 

“ There is something the matter. You 
do not speak to me as you usually do. 
It looks to me as if my presence an- 
noyed you. Since the day that Mon- 
sieur Yandelle, finally overcome by your 
persistanc3^, detained me at the very 
moment that I was going away, have 
I forfeited the good opinion of either 
him or yourself? Is he not contented 
Yvith my work ? ” 

“Monsieur Yandelle,” replied Henri- 
<itte more sweetly, ‘ ‘ never speak's to me of 


255 


you, and I have nothing to reproach you 
for. This somber and cold weather has 
made me slightly ill, but don’t disquiet 
yourself about me. Think of 3^ourwork^ 
of your future. Are you contented with 
your position in the factory ? Are you 
obeyed, considered and loved ? Are you 
very busy at present ? ” 

‘‘Yes, but one thing is lacking.” 

“What is that.” 

“The eye of a master: Monsieur Yan- 
delle is not often among us.” 

“Well, replace him.” 

“ I have not the requisite authority ; I 
am too recent a comer in the factory.” 

“ I can do nothing about it.” 

“I know it, and I would not have 
said anything about this matter if you 
had not asked me.” 

They regarded each other for some 
time in silence. He, with his eyes fixed 
on her, happy to contemplate her, but 


256 


ranked amon^ those who never suc- 
cumb, and the number is large, no 
matter what one says to the contrary. 
But for an hour, she no longer felt 
that superb confidence in herself which, 
up to that time, had sustained her; her 
first step on a dangerous path had 
frightened her beyond measure and had 
caused her to fear making a second ; she 
was about to acquire suddenly, in her 
hour of need, the experience which she 
lacked. Smiling and without fear, al- 
though a little anxious, she had climbed 
a high mountain without falling or 
looking behind her. Then, having made 
a false step, a very slight one, the abyss 
appeared before her and she now feared 
the vertigo. 

But how to escape the danger? What 
to do? To go away, but could she? 
The women, who have the greatest 
need of motion and of activity, of dis- 


18 


273 


traction and of traveling, to escape 
from certain influences, are the ones most 
frequently condemned to inaction and 
seclusion. It is necessary for them to 
fight the danger on the spot without a 
change of atmosphere, with nothing 
new to divert their thoughts. If the 
danger comes — and it is often the hus- 
band who involuntarily brings it in the 
form of an attractive friend — they must 
submit to it; they cannot turn him out. 
A man, on the contrary, can take his hat 
and say : ^‘Decidedly this woman is too 
interesting. I had better not come 
again.” If, supposing an impossible case, 
he should be turned out of the house; 
he can grab his traveling bag and 
fly with all haste and — he is saved. A 
married woman cannot do this; in her 
case such a precipitate flight would 
be regarded as an acknowledgement of 
her guilt and nobody would believe that, 


274 


on reaching the railroad station, she 
entered a compartment reserved for 
ladies. 

But, if Madame Vandelle could not 
run away from Olivier Deschamps, she 
had sufficient command over herself 
to compel him to leave the chateau, 
and to make him promise never to see 
her again. It was terrible, and nothing 
but this thought made her cry. She 
cried about 'herself, whose isolation 
would be so complete; she cried about 
him, who would be desolate and 
despairing. 

She did not hesitate; she was resolved 
to make no compromise with her con- 
science, for she knew her peril, the deep 
chasm appeared before her and seeing 
herself standing on the edge, she 
dared neither to mount higher or to re- 
main in the same place but desired to 


275 


descend as quickly as possible to the 
plain below. 

The horizon would be limited: the 
cloud which had been below her, now 
surrounded her and the bright, blue sky, 
beheld for an instant from the high 
summits, had disappeared and she re- 
mained, amidst the fog, mournful and 
discouraged. But what mattered her 
feelings? She had done her duty, had 
expiated her fault, and would be 
exposed to no new temptations. 


CHAPTER V. 


How was she going to let Olivier know 
that he must go ? How was she going 
to speak to him , or to eonvinee him ? And 
if, in plaee of sharing her fears, obeying 
her, and leaving the countr\^, he should 
try to persuade her that he eould safely 
remain; if she should allow herself to 
be touched by his reasoning and his elo- 
quence ; if conquered by his despair, dis- 
couraged and weakened herself by the 
struggle, she should again commit some 
imprudence ? Ah ! she could fear any- 
thing now; had they not allowed 
themselves to be carried away in an 
unguarded moment when she neither 
doubted his strength or her own ? 


277 


Should she write to him ? He would 
respond, discuss her reasons and per- 
haps advance strong ones for not leav- 
ing, which she would have to com- 
bat. And besides, if she wrote, would 
that not be another mistake ? 

She must have a confident, somebody 
whom she could depend upon, a friend 
who could speak to Olivier in her name, 
convince him and make him agree 
to go away. Then, she need not see 
him again or risk being touched by his 
prayers, and so woul d not be tempted to 
say: “Remain,’^ or forget herself while 
saying good bye. 

But she had neither a confident nor a 
friend ; she was alone, entirely alone in 
thenearly deserted and dreary country; 
she felt utterly desolate and the dark 
night outside seemed a fitting accom- 
paniment to her despair. 


278 


While she was thus thinkiug, Claire 
entered the room. 

She looked at her. The young woman 
appeared as sad, as depressed and 
dejected as she did herself. She was no 
longer, as on the day of her arrival at 
the chateau, smiling and glowing with 
health, but had paled greatly, and the 
brightness of her eyes seemed to have 
decreased. 

Henriette reproached herself for not 
having noticed this transformation be- 
fore, for living absorbed in her own sor- 
row without seeing that of others, for 
having considered only her own troubles 
without thinking that this young 
woman might have her’s. Without fam- 
ily, without friends and withoutfortune, 
Claire Meunier had agreed to shut 
herself up in the heart of France, far from 
all distractions, and in a country wild 
in summer, desolate in winter. Should 


279 


she not have expected to receive from 
her, with whom she shared her exile, a 
little kindness and amiability, if not af- 
fection? But no, Henriette had de- 
tached herself little by little from her, 
and, that she might entirely devote 
herself to her reveries, had, so to speak, 
quarantined her. 

And Claire had said nothing, had suf- 
fered in silence; she no doubt needed her 
pay and so did not dare complain. 

Truly, Henriette had been too egotist- 
ical, too cruel! She reproached her- 
self and was ashamed of her past con- 
duct. 

Then, as Claire, taking a book, 
seated herself in a corner so as not 
to disturb her meditations, Henriette 
arrived at the conclusion that this 
young woman perhaps merited her con- 
fidence. Besides, had she not appeared 
at the very moment when she had 


280 


wished for a confident, a friend? Was 
not one led to believe that Heaven, to 
whom Madame Yandelle had com- 
plained of her isolation, had opened to 
give passage to her who would console 
and perhaps save her ? 

However, she did not think at this time 
of disclosing her secret, or of charging 
her with the mission to Olivier. If, later, 
she should decide to do so, it would be 
because an irresistible desire for S3^mpa- 
thy drew her out farther than she 
wished. She intended at first to show 
a great amount of affection for her 
whom she had up to this time kept at a 
distance. She wished to attach her to 
herself, to make her for the future a be- 
loved friend and to confide in her to 
some extent so that Claire, in her turn, 
might open up her heart. 


281 


CHAPTER VI. 


When one has lived for a long time 
absorbed in one’s self, in one’s reflec- 
tions, in one’s thoughts, without con- 
fiding them to a soul, and when tired 
of silence, of isolation, and nervous 
be3'Ond measure, if by hazzard, one 
becomes confidential, there is no 
stopping; one excites one’s self by 
one’s own words, becomes still more 
nervous and sa3^s a great deal more 
than one intends. This is what was 
about to happen to Henriette. After 
the dinner, which was short, and at 
which the master of the house did not 
appear, Madame Yandelle, finding her- 
self alone with Esther, went and sat 
beside her, saying kindly: 


282 


“I do not mean to reproach yon, my 
dear Mile. Meunier, but for some time 
past you have left me much alone. You 
only come to me when I ask for you. I 
have need of some one to speak to me, 
some one to love me. Have I offended 
you ? Have you any grievance or 
grudge against me? 

‘ ‘ Any grievance or grudge ? What an 
idea!’^ replied Esther in rather a hard 
voice. 

“Ah ! You are vexed at me ; I can see 
it,^^ continued the young wife. “I have 
seemed cold towards you perhaps, but 
it is not pride; I do not easily become 
intimate. I am neither imperious nor 
haughty, and if my words are not al- 
ways the same, or if I am some times a 
little impatient and brusque, it is be- 
cause I suffer, and grief renders one ir- 
ritable and unjust.” 

“But, Madame,” observed Esther, 

283 


why do 3'Oti say this to me? I have 
made no complaints/’ 

‘‘No; yon do not complain but yon 
are sad, 3^ou are melancholy, and 3^ou 
shun me. And I repeat to 3"ou that 
never, never have I had such need of 
affection, counsel and support as at this 
minute. I have neither mother, sister 
or friend. I am alone, alone to fight 
against sorrow, my thoughts, and the 
foll3^ and anger of despair.” 

Little b3^ little, as we have predicted, 
Henriette went be3^ond the limits she 
had traced for her confidence, excit- 
ing herself as she spoke. Her aching 
heart, so long closed to all the world, 
was now opened and x^oured forth its 
troubles freel3^ 

“I do not understand 3"ou, Madame,” 
res]Donded Esther. 

“Oh, yes! 3^ou com] 3 rehend,” replied 
she feverishl3^ “Yovi have certainly 


284 


guessed; you must have seen that he 
who should cherish and protect me, 
abandons me; that he who should love 
me, shows me only indifference and dis- 
dain. But you can sustain, comfort and 
counsel me. You are strong and I am 
weak. I fully appreciate your strong, 
proud character. ^Will you be my friend? 
there is nothing to prevent our be- 
coming warm ones. Are you not my 
equal in education and intelligence? 
You are a woman, and therefore should 
sustain me, if not from affection and 
sympathy, at least from pity.’^ 

“ I pity you ?” 

‘ ‘ Why not ? asked Henriette. Because 
chance has deprived you of that fortune 
which has made me so miserable. Oh ! 
I envy you. You are free, depend only on 
yourself, and can follow the dictates of 
your own heart. I silenced minetosave 
this miserable property. Ah ! but I did 


285 


not kn o w . Weak , always weak , I all owed 
myself to be led, and now, in my bruised 
and wounded heart, the past awakens. 
I am obliged to suppress, to stifle my 
feelings, and to bring despair to another 
heart, which has never beaten but for 
me.’^ 

Another heart! ” exclaimed Esther. 

‘‘Yes, yes,” continued Henriette, more 
excited than ever, and comprehending 
that she had said too much to stop 
now, .“yes, you know very well. Did 
you not guess it a longtime ago ? Must 
I put my secret into words for you to 
understand it? That young man, the 
friend of my childhood, he who lives 
with us, must go away to-morrow, 
to-night if possible. I must not see him 
again. Say this to him for me, beseech 
him, order him to go.” 

“I! ” cried Esther, astonished. 

“Yes. I should not have the courage. 

286 


Do this, I beg of you, my companion, 
my friend.” 

She continued to talk for some time 
longer, insisting, almost supplicating. 
Then, without giving Esther time to 
answer, in the fear of receiving a refusal 
and perhaps also, because she feared 
she might revoke her decision, she left 
the room precipitately. 

When she had gone, Esther Sandraz 
slowly let fall these words : 

“H.OW strangely such pebple compre- 
hend love! ” 

Then gloomy and down-hearted, she 
remained plunged in her reflections. 


287 


CHAPTER VII. 

Soon, Olivier Deschamps, whom a 
servant had gone to find at the faetory 
where he worked every evening before 
going home, joined Esther. 

She lifted her head when she heard 
him enter but instead of speaking to 
him at onee, regarded him fixedly for 
several minutes. 

His strong features, his deep eyes, cer- 
tain lines in his forehead, something sad 
in his smile^ revealed the hard student; 
deep reflection and perhaps the events 
of his life had ripened him early, and 
given him experience. But that which 


288 


was above all pleasing in him was the 
charm of his face, his clear gaze, which 
was, so to speak, full of sunshine and 
frankness. 

Astonished that Mile. Claire Meunier 
should ask for him, he waited at first 
for her to open the interview. Finally 
seeing that she continued to keep silent 
he decided to speak. 

“I have come. Mademoiselle, at your 
command. What do you wish of me? 
Why do you look at me so ? 

‘‘Because, Monsieur, I do not know 
how to acquit myself of the mission 
with which I have been charged.’^ 

“A mission?^’ 

“A very strange and painful one.’’ 

“From whom?” 

“Madame Yandelle.” 

“Ah!” said he paling, and he added 
after an instant in a voice which he 

289 


19 


tried to render calm ; “what is this mis- 
sion ? 

“Madame Vandelle,’^ slowly ans- 
wered Esther, “begs you, orders you if 
necessary, to leave here/’ 

He cast a suspicious glance at her. 
He was astonished, not by the order 
which Henriette sent him, for he knew 
her and had dreaded to receive it, but, 
not having assisted at the interview 
which had just taken place between the 
two women and not taking into account 
all that had influenced Madame Van- 
delle, he could not understand why she 
had chosen Claire Meunier for a confi- 
dent. His astonishment betrayed itself 
in these words : 

“And it is you whom she has 
charged ? — ” 

“Yes, I, interrupted Esther, “and my 
surprise equals your own. However, 
have the kindness to reflect that I was 


290 


the only person who could speak to you 
in her name.” Then as he did not re- 
spond, she added: “Well, sir, what is 
your decision? what answer am I to 
give to Madame Vandelle? ” 

“Say to her,” answered he resolutely, 
“that I will obe3^, without discussing 
her commands.” 

She arose and advanced towards 
him. 

“ Your answer is not serious, you still 
doubt me, do you not ? You do not be- 
lieve that I am really charged with this 
message to you.” 

“I did indeed doubt. Mademoiselle, 
but I have reflected and I doubt no 
longer.” 

“Then,” replied Esther,” you will 
really go tomorrow?” 

“Tomorrow.” 

“Without bidding her good bye ? ” 

“Yes, if she exacts it.” 


291 


“You do not love her then!” cried 
Esther. 

Her accent, her gesture, confirmed 
Olivier in the belief that she was sincere, 
and proved, at the same time, the truth 
of certain ideas which he soon ex- 
pressed. 

“You see to what an extent I love her 
since I agree to go away.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

He made a step towards her and, 
looking her straight in the eyes, said : 

“You have never 1 o ved then ? ’ ’ 

“I don’t know,” replied she quickly. 
“But it seems to me that no obstacle 
could separate me from the one I loved ; 
and that if by chance there were any, 
before I would renounce my happiness 
and my life, I would surmount them all.’^ 

“Even at the risk of fatally compro- 
mising an existence more precious than 
your own?” 


292 


“At any risk, at any price. Is not 
my life as good as another’s ? 

“It is easj" to see,” answered he, 
“that you have never loved.” 

She kept silent and seemed to reflect. 
Perhaps she was asking herself if he 
was not right, if she had ever really 
loved. At last lifting her head she said : 

“ So you are really going ? ” 

“I am going. Have the kindness to 
say to Madame Yandelle that tomor- 
row, at the earliest hour, I shall leave 
this house. Tell her that in spite of the 
pain in my heart, her memory shall be 
my guiding star. Say to her that I go be- 
cause I wish her to be pure, honored and 
holy in all eyes, that I go blessing her, 
without a murmur. I shall die of it 
perhaps, but I shall expire without 
regretting my sacrifice, and my last 
thought shall be a tender one for her.” 

He spoke no more and yet she lis- 


293 


tened, astonished and stupified at the 
words which he had uttered, by the 
sentiments so new, so strange to her. 



294 


CHAPTER YIII. 


Olivier, after a few moments, broke the 
silence, and, approaching Esther, said: 

“Now that we have adjusted Mad- 
ame Vandelle’s and my situation, we 
will, if you please, speak about you.’’ 

“About me?” 

“Yes, about you, who, intrusted with 
the mission of sending me away, tried 
to detain me.” 

“I, I tried ?” 

“Without doubt. Did you not say 
that no obstacle could separate you 
from the man you loved; that you 
would break through everything, at 
any risk, at any price? That was as 
much as telling me to remain.” 


295 


‘‘Really! And why should I try to 
detain you ? asked she. “ What differ- 
ence does your presence or your absence 
make to me? ’’ 

“ Much,’’ replied he in a firm voice, 
transfixing Esther with a steady gaze. 
“If I depart, Madame Vandelle would 
escape from all danger, and you are 
waiting for her fall.” 

“I! I! ” cried she astonished and pale. 
“What does this mean, sir? By what 
right do you thus accuse me? Wh3^ do 
you insult me? With what end should 
I await for the fall of Madame Yan- 
delle?” 

“With the idea,” replied he, “of sep- 
arating Monsieur Vandelle forever from 
his wife and of living with him.” 

“Sir!” 

He added without departing from his 
calm : 

“You thought I was too much in love 


296 


to see things clearly here. You were 
mistaken. Who are you? I don’t know. 
From where j^ou come? of little import- 
ance. Had 3^ou some secret design in 
introducing yourself into this house ? I 
am not posted to that extent; but it 
is certain that you have made a great 
impression on Monsieur Vandelle since 
your arrival here. It is also certain 
that he is not indifferent to you. Don’t 
lie; I know what I am talking about. 
I quickly understood that Madame Van- 
delle ran a great danger from 3^ou two, 
and, that is why I wanted a position in 
the factory; why I am here. I leave 
tomorrow because she has ordered me 
to do so, but you leave with me.” 

“In truth,” cried she, “you so dispose 
of my person? ” 

^ ‘ No, it is you who are going to dispose 
of it, of your own free will. You do 


297 


not kiiow3^otirself and so I am aboutto 
give you a lesson.’^ 

“Well!’^ said she, regarding more cu- 
rioush^ the man who was about to meta- 
mo rphose her to some extent, to reveal 
her to herself. 


CHAPTER IX. 


He continued in an assured, but sweet 
and penetrating voice : 

“You have been, Mademoiselle, spoiled 
and petted during your infancy and 
youth. You were so pretty, so beauti- 
ful, that you were loved and admired, 
without anyone thinking of preparing 
you to lead an honorable and honored 
life. Later, you haA^e loved in 3^our 
turn, but one of those men for whom a 
woman’s heart does not exist, who 
materialize and debase her. You have 
suffered much from this man, and you 
no longer have but one thought — re- 
venge.” 

She trembled, but sh^ made neither a 
gesture nor spoke. 


29S 


He continued : 

“What vengeance you have dreamed 
of in this moment of perturbation, of 
anger, I do not exactly know. But 
for two months, from the day that I 
obtained a place here, I have observed 
you, watched your gestures, 3^our 
glances, and I am sure that without 
having had the courage to abandon 
3^our designs, you are ashamed of them ; 
3^ou blush at yourself, 3^ou suffer.” 

She remained motionless, her head 
lowered and her glance fixed. 

“To-day,” went on Olivier more 
sweetly, as if speaking to an invalid, 
“to-day, 3^ou suffer more than you 
have ever suffered ; she whom you for- 
merly hated, whom 3^ou wished to sac- 
rifice to 3"our resentments, has shown 
herself towards you, affectionate and 
kind, and has treated 3^ou as a friend. 
These marks of sympath3^have touched 


300 


you, and your heart, already less hard, 
grows still more softened. But I have 
understood from certain words that 
you said a short time ago, that some- 
thing had made a still more lively im- 
pression on your heart: Madame Yan- 
delle suffers on acconnt of her husband ; 
she has been humiliated, ill-treated and 
abused b^^ him, and yet far from think- 
ing of taking revenge on him, she has 
sacrificed herself so that the honor of 
him, whose name she bears, might run 
no danger, so that he might not suffer 
on her account. She loves me, you can- 
not doubt it; you have known it for 
some time, and yet she sends me away. 
As for me, instead of resisting her orders, 
in spite of my jDain, I submit. Her con- 
duct and mine have profoundly aston- 
ished you. Our way of understanding 
love, duty and devotion have succeeded 
in moving your heart, wavering and 


301 


tormented. You have experienced a 
change of sentiment, and I am very 
much mistaken if you are not on the 
road to salvation. That is what I de- 
sired to tell you in my turn, Mademoi- 
selle.^’ 

He saluted her and went out, without 
her having pronounced a word. 



302 


CHAPTER X. 


A quarter of an hour later, while 
Esther was still seated in the same 
place, steps sounded in the dining-room, 
adjoining the little salon. It was Van- 
delle who entered; his hunting expedi- 
tion had no doubt been in vain as no 
detonation had been heard. He had 
not yet dined and so he ordered his din- 
ner at once without going upstairs, 
contenting himself with placing his gun, 
still loaded, in a corner. 

His repast lasted about an hour. For 
some time, Vandelle had lingered longer 
over his meals than before ; perhaps he 
tried in this way to forget his misfor- 
tunes, and, with the assistance of good 


303 


wine, to replace the dismal present by a 
bright colored dream, to live in the past 
and above all in the future, since the 
present was so sad. 

When his abundant repast was 
finished and when he had consumed a 
demi-caraffe of kirsch that he might 
better enjoy dreaming, he lighted a ci- 
gar and turned towards the little salon, 
where he hoped to comfortably enjoy 
his siesta. Vandelle appreciated all the 
refinements of good living and comfort. 

He was greatly astonished to find 
Esther seated before the fire, thoughtful 
and plunged in meditation. He thought 
that she had long ago retired to her 
room and had not hoped for a tetc- 
a-tete with her. If he had known that 
she was there, so near him, perhaps he 
would not have remained so long at 
table, would have been more moderate 
in his drinking; he had indulged so 

304 


freely that he saw it was out of the 
question for him to attempt to sustain 
a conversation, or to profit from his 
good fortune. He had so little confi- 
dence in his intellectual faculties, in his 
aptitude for making gallant speeches, 
that he decided to keep silent and imi- 
tate the mutism of Esther. He took his 
habitual place on the lounge, installed 
himself at his ease, put a cushion under 
his head, stretched out his legs, and 
lighted a fresh cigar. 

This evening did not lack its 
charm : it reminded him of those he had 
passed in the apartments of Esther on 
the rue de Seze. He was then, as today, 
alone with her in a small room, 
stretched out on a lounge from which 
he contemplated and admired her, with- 
out saying a word. 

But then such eloquent silence was 
succeeded by conversation still more 

305 


20 


eloquent. He did not always remain 
alone on the lounge; sometimes she 
joined him there and thanked him for 
his mute admiration. Today, she paid 
no attention to the direction of his 
glances, their ardor did not touch her, 
she showed herself indifferent to their 
steadinesss. 

A moment however arrived, when, in 
consequence of a magnetic phenomenon , 
which onecannot gainsay, the obstinacy 
of his steady gaze forced Esther to raise 
her eyes. 

She saw the purple face of Vandelle, 
his unnaturally brilliant eye, full of lust; 
his large open nostrils, his red lips. 
With his large shoulders, his short, 
thick, powerfully veined neck, burned by 
the wind and sun; his thick, black, 
bushy hair; his abundant beard, now 
uncared for, Vandelle recalled the faun 
of antique statuary", which Greek art 


306 


is known to leave, under robust ap- 
pearances, under a certain elegance of 
form. It was the perfect type of sensu- 
alit}^, but of an Athenian sensuality, 
Parisian and mondaine. 

She was now able to regard him at 
her^ease. Strong, because of the re- 
served attitude he had assumed and the 
sort of lethargy into which his half- 
drunken condition had plunged him, 
she did not have to be on her guard 
against him. Also he appeared to her 
in all his materialit3^, just as he was. 

And this was all she had succeeded 
in inspiring in him. The love that he 
felt, the great love that he showed for 
her, could be summed up in one word: 
possession. 

He saw only that, he aspired only for 
that, he coveted nothing else. Her 
body, and that was all. 

Ah! what a distance separated this 
307 


pb3"sical love from that real love which 
Henriette Vatidelle inspired in Olivier 
Deschamps! Althongh they were 
both young, both ardent, healthy 
and vigorous, 3^et they did riot allow 
themselves to be governed by their 
passions or carried away by sensuality. 
The heart ruled them, they listened 
to it, and the noise of its beat- 
ing deadened all the murmurs which 
sounded within them, ennobled them, 
and preserved them from all pollution. 
He loved her, he knew himself beloved 
by her and yet he was ready to make 
an3^ sacrifice. She loved him and in the 
fear of allowing him to see her love, of 
becoming tender in his presence, she 
sent him away and condemned herself 
to self-denial. 

What a difference between Olivier 
Deschamps and Vandelle, and what a 
barrier separated her from Henriette! 


308 


For she interrogated her conscience; 
she asked herself if she was any better 
than her lover Had she not developed 
her desires, irritated her senses, placed 
carnal pleasures above all intellectual 
enjo3unents? Has not a woman a mis- 
sion to fulfill near the man she loves : to 
speak to his reason, to his soul; not to 
permit him to devote so much time to 
sensations, but to consider his feelings, 
to enhance them, uplift them, and 
act so that her love, however ar- 
dent it may be, will ennoble and purify 
him ? But at the time of their liaison^ 
she forgot herself so completeJr^ in his 
arms, that she neither thought to in- 
terrogate his heart nor allow her own 
to speak. 

And this is what he had become: 
awaiting the return of past pleasures, 
watching for the hour when she would 
become more human, would change 


309 


from a statue to a living being, whose 
ice would melt. He had no other ob- 
jective : the world might fall to pieces, 
and he would not perceive it while 
his e3^es were fixed on her, awaiting the 
propitious hour. 

And this is what she had become: 
to avenge herself, she had found onl3" 
one way: to crucify him in the flesh. 

Ah! they were noble! She told herself 
that she was worse than he. Had 
she not conceived the odious project of 
revenging herself on poor Henriette? 
If the unhappy one suffered, at this 
time, from her love for Olivier, if she 
was discouraged and broken-hearted, 
was it not Esther who had inflicted this 
new suffering on her? Had not Mile. 
Sandraz exacted that Olivier should 
enter thehouse, beconstantly with her? 
Had she not fanned the fire of their 
love? Yandelle had not doubted 
310 


his wife ; he believed in her virtue, and, 
without being criminal, had exposed her 
to danger, persuaded that Henriette 
would not succumb to it. But she, 
Esther Sandraz, had believed, on the 
contrary, in the certain downfall of 
Madame Yandelle; she had desired it, 
had prepared it. 

And what a great lesson these honest 
people had taught her ! Olivier, whom 
she had mixed in her vengeance without 
any reason, whom she condemned to 
the same martyrdom ; Olivier, who 
seemed to have discovered her secret de- 
signs, instead of threatening, of crush- 
ing her, had appealed to her good sen- 
timents, had pitied her, had found ex- 
cuses for her faults, nearly for her 
criminal projects, and went away confid* 
ing to her the woman she wished to ruin. 
As to Henriette, she had taken her for a 
confident, for a friend, had come to her 


311 


in her hour of need, and believing in her 
virtue, had eharged Esther with pro- 
teeting her. 

All this world of thoughts whirled 
around in her brain ; she went over her 
past life: the unpleasantness and ca- 
priees of her infaney, the eeeentrieities of 
her youth, her thoughtlessness, her friv- 
olity, her idleness, her love of noise and 
a erowd, her mother for whom she had 
not long mourned, Vandelle whom she 
had loved too quiekly, without giving 
herself the trouble of studying him, her 
too brusque struggle, her enervat- 
ing am ours y her undignified ven- 
geanee, brutal towards Yandelle, un- 
just and criminal towards Henriette, 
and now her defeat, her confusion, her 
shame. ‘ Those that she had wished to 
strike had escaped her ; they over- 
whelmed her with their kindness, their 
goodness. They raised themselves so 


312 


high, so high above her, that she could 
not reach them, and they surrounded 
themselves in regions which were inter- 
dicted to her. 

Vandelle alone remained to her. He 
had not raised himself off the earth ; he 
crept there, on the ground.' She could 
still make him suffer, throw a provok- 
ing glance at him, call him by a sign, 
and to exasperate him, become again a 
woman of ice. What infamy ! 

She could also resuscitate the past, 
here, in this salon, under his roof, in the 
house of Henriette. How shameful ! 



313 


CHAPTER XL 

While Esther Sandraz was thinking of 
these things, Yandelle, still stretched 
on the lounge, his cigar between his 
teeth, did not cease to watch her. He 
said to himself that if Esther, who usu- 
ally fled from him, who avoided every 
tete-a-tete, remained there near him at 
this hour, it was because she was com- 
mencing to become more human, and 
soon, perhaps this very evening, she 
would take pity on him and on herself. 

‘‘Ah ! I don’t wish to remain here any 
longer,” suddenly cried Esther leaving 
her seat. “I will leave tomorrow ! ” 

He had so little expected this phrase, 
that he made a bruscj[ue movement and 


314 


fell back all in a heap, as if he had 
received a sudden shock. 

Leave! ” exclaimed he. “What do vou 
mean ? ’ ’ 

She had drawn near him, and in a 
firm voice said : 

“Forget me; there is still time.’^ 

“Forget yovi! ” replied he without un- 
derstanding, while trying to regain his 
scattered senses. 

“Yes, forget me. I came to avenge 
myself on you, but I loved you all the 
time. I am sure that I loved you, for, if 
I had not, would not I have long ago 
renounced my vengeance and driven 
your memory from my heart? All that 
I have said, all that I have done, m}^ 
irony, my resistance, my coldness, was 
only an illuvsion. I wished you ill, much 
ill, I could have killed you with delight, 
but I suffered, I also, in making you suf- 
fer; when I became marble and statue- 


315 


like in yonr arms, T suffered as much as 
3^ou, perhaps more. But I am ashamed 
of myself. Ido not wish to see you any 
more! I desire to leave, to depart — 
good bye.^’ 

She had already turned towards the 
door when he sj^rang up and, seizing her 
in his arms, rivited her to the spot 
where she stood. 

‘‘Depart 1 ” cried he, “leave here ! when 
you have just told me that you still 
love me, you are a fool ! 

“I don’t know,” replied she, “it is 
possible.” 

“Depart!” continued he, beside him- 
self. “I will not xDermit you. I am de- 
termined now. 1 thought for a time, 
when I saw you so cold, so cruel, 
that the only feeling you had for me 
was hatred. Now I know that you love 
me, that you struggle against me and 
would like — ” 


316 


She interrupted him. While he was 
speaking she had reflected on the mistake 
that she had made: the acknowledge- 
ment which escaped her in a moment of 
frankness, because she was fatigued 
and worn out by the comedy that 
she had been playing so long, had 
fortified Vandelle and turned him 
against herself. So, excited as she had 
been a few minutes before, she became 
again calm and cold. 

‘‘I have told you that I wish to go 
away,” said she in a positive voice. 

‘‘And I have told you that I will not 
allow you to do so,” cried he. 

“What will you dare to do ? ” 

“Everything.” 

And he encircled her with his arms 
and held her against his breast. 

“Let me go,” said she trying to de- 
fend herself. 

“Let you go? when I have waited 


317 


and hoped, for so long. Let yon depart ? 
to remain here more miserable, more 
wretched than ever.” 

“Ah ! you make me afraid.’^ 

“No, because you love me.’^ 

“No, no! I thought that I loved 3^011 
when I returned here, but I no longer 
care for 3'ou — I do not love you. Was 
it ever real love? ” 

A noise was heard in the next room : 
the servants, before retiring, were com- 
ing to close the windows in the salon. 
Vandelle was obliged to let Esther go. 
She immediateh^ profited by her lilDcrty 
to run to the door, open it and disap- 
pear. 



318 


CHAPTER XII. 


Mile. Sandraz, on leaving Vandelle, 
quickly crossed the vestibule and as- 
cended the stairs to her room; but as 
she reached the landing on the second 
floor, a door, half-open for some time, 
swung back and Henriette appeared. 

Esther, understanding that Madame 
Vandelle desired to speak with her, 
joined her after being assured that 
nobody was looking. 

“Well!” said Henriette in a low 
voice, “Did he come, have you spoken 
with him ? ’ ’ 

“Yes, Madame.” 

“What did he say ? ” 

“That he was broken-hearted, but 
that he would obey you.” 


319 


“All! — and when does he go?’^ 

“Tomorrow, as early as possible.’^ 

“Without seeing me again?” asked 
she sadly. 

“Yon desired that he should not see 
you again and I demanded of him, in 
3^our name, this last sacrifice.” 

“And he does it!” exclaimed Henri- 
ette. “Ah! to recompense him, I should 
go say good bye to him.” 

These last words made Esther trem- 
ble: to go to Olivier, at this hour of 
the evening, at the end of the park, in 
the pavilion which he occupied alone, 
and while Vandelle was down stairs 
and could see her pass. What im- 
prudence! 

But her feats were soon quieted : Hen- 
riette was incapable of such folly. She 
had wished to say no doubt that she 
should, that she ought to meet Olivier 
the next morning on the road, at the 


320 


moment of his departure. However, 
Madame Yandelle, after having thanked 
Esther effusively, and, in a burst of feel- 
ing which she could not control, hav- 
ing pressed her to her heart, had re- 
entered her room. 

Esther, reassured and entirely over- 
come by this new mark of affection, left 
the landing and retired to her room. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


During this time, Vandellc, alone in 
the little salon, gave himself up to re- 
flection. Pie had opened the door which 
communicated with the dining-room, 
and walked up and down, interrupting 
his promenade from time to time by 
slopping before a table on which stood 
a decanter of liqueur. 

Esther had announced to him her near 
departure ! Why should she go, since she 
had betra3^ed herself, since she had 
acknowledged at last that it was her 
love, her passion for him that had 
brought her there? She said, it is true, 
that she no longer loved him ; but, 
thanks to his conceitedness, Yandelle 


322 


believed he knew what to think on that 
subjeet : it was, aecording to his reason- 
ing, the desperate attempt of a woman 
to regain the secret which she had dis- 
closed. 

' She loved him! she had always loved 
him ! He could not disbelieve it, and yet 
she was going away. Why? 

Because she had had an insane dream: 
Henriette, in constant relations with 
Olivier Dcschamps, would inevitably 
become enamored with the companion 
of her childhood and, without delay, 
would fail in her duty and become crim- 
inal. Then, Vandelle, whom nothing 
escaped, who was not one of those blind 
husbands whom you can deceive with 
impunity, would soon become aware of 
her deeds and would separate himself 
forever from his wife. 

It was necessarily, still following his 
line of reasoning, the end looked for 


323 


by Esther; not, as she would have him 
belieYe, from a desire of vengeance, but 
from love, from jealousy, with the hope 
of regaining the place which had been 
taken from her, of no longer having a 
rival. 

Indeed, Esther Sandraz, thought her 
former lover, must suffer ciuelly at see- 
ing near him a young and pretty woman. 
It was useless for him to say that he did 
not love her, that he had never loved 
her, that their relations were of the most 
frigid character, Esther could doubt this, 
and the doubt tormented her. She had 
a certain knowledge of life, she was not 
ignorant that men, no matter how much 
in love they may be with a mistress, do 
not consider themselves obliged to con- 
demn their wives to a life of celibacy. 
Often indeed, the more culpable they are, 
the more amiable they think they should 
be; they thus draw off suspicion from 
324 


themselves and pursuade the wife that 
she is the only woman they love. 

But, if the legitimate wife, disdainful 
of the deference shown her by her hus- 
band, suspecting his treason in spite of 
all his precautions, finds a diversion for 
her chagrins in an illicit liaison and 
commits a fault, the husband regains 
his liberty at once and" drives from his 
house the unfaithful one, or at least 
breaks off every relation with her. 

It was exactly on a rupture of this 
kind, Yandelle said to himself, that 
Esther had counted. She had shown 
herself very modest in this for she might 
have hoped for better. Yandelle was 
not a man, when he knew his wife 
to be guilty, to content himself with a 
I upture, with an amiable or legal separ- 
ation. At this thought, that Henriette 
might deceive him, he forgot that he 
himself had but one desire, one aspira- 


325 


tion, one end in view at this moment: 
to deceive her himself. He became 'fu- 
rious, and, armed with the code, so 
severe on the wives, so indulgent for the 
husbands, he thought of dealing out 
justice promptly and well. 

But happily he had no cause. Henri- 
ette, in spite of the foresight of Esther, 
had for Olivier Deschamps only a sincere 
friendship. Henriette, in spite of the 
wrong done her by Vandelle, loved only 
her husband, could only love him. It 
was with impunity that she had given 
Olivier Deschamps a"position in the fac- 
tory and quarters in the little Louis 
XIII pavilion at the end of the park. 

And, having considered all these 
things, having made all these evolu- 
tions, he returned to the starting point : 
Esther, obliged to acknowledge that she 
was mistaken in her judgment of Hen- 
riette, obliged to bow down before the 


326 


unassailable virtue of Madame Vaii- 
delle, Esther vanquished, more in love 
than ever, but determined not to admit 
it, retired in favor of her rival and 
wished to fly the eountry. 

But he would retain her by force; or, 
if sh.e did indeed desire to dejpart, he 
would follow her. 


327 


CHAPTER XIY. 


While he was thus thinking he heard 
foot-stei3S on the stairs; it sounded as if 
some one was coming down quietly on 
tip-toe. 

A servant would not have taken so 
much precaution, and besides, the^^ had 
all gone to bed an hour previous, 
in a wing of the chateau entirely sepa- 
rated from the family. 

If it should be Esther Sandraz coming 
back. 

He listened. 

The vestibule was crossed and then 
the steps grew fainter, for now they 
were turned towards the door opening 
into the park. 


328 


Who could be going out at such an 
hour, in such cold weather, in the dark ? 

He ran to the lamp standing on the 
table and extinguished it; then, turning 
to the window, he looked out. 

Soon a human form appeared in the 
alley. No stars glittered in the sk3^ 
but the snow and the leaves on the 
shrubs made a white background 
against which the shadow of the person 
walking in the alley stood out plainly. 

It was a woman covered by a large 
cloak with a black hood. He trembled 
for he had recognized the costume that 
Henriette had been wearing every since 
the cold weather had begun. 

Where was she going? 

At a distance, about a hundred meters 
from the chateau, lights could be seen. ' 
The pavilion occupied by Olivier Des- 
champs was still lighted, and Henriette 
was taking the path leading to it. 


329 


What! At the moment when he was 
priding himself on her virtue, when he 
was praising her to the skies, he sud- 
denly discovered — Oh! it was impos- 
sible! Esther could not be right! It 
was not Henriette who went out so 
secreth^ to visit her lover, when she 
thought everybody asleep. 

He looked again ; it was she indeed ! 

Then, angry and excited, again under 
the influence of the wine he had drank 
at dinner, he seized his gun, which he 
had placed two hours before in a corner 
of the dining-room, and opening the 
door dashed out into the park. 



330 


CHAPTER XV. 


However Vandelle, in spite of his ex- 
citement, shewed some intelligence 
and sang-froid in nis pursuit. Instead of 
taking the path which Henriette had fol- 
lowed, and of being seen in case she 
should turn around, he took a path, lost 
among the dense foliage, which led 
directly to the pavilion inhabited by 
Olivier. 

A few steps from the pavilion he 
stopped. Henriette had not yet ar- 
rived. But she was approaching, for 
in the deep silence of the night, he could 
hear the crisp snow crack under her feet. 

Vandelle, hidden behind a clump of 
bushes like a hunter watching for his 
prey, waited. 


331 


At last, she arrived, still envel- 
oped in her hooded cloak. She walked 
quickly towards the door and tried to 
open it, but the door was locked. Then, 
without hesitation, like an expected 
and desired person, she knocked. 

A noise could be heard on the inside 
and the light was seen to move about, 
then the shutters were opened and 
Olivier appeared behind the glass, a 
lamp in his hand. Quickly the door 
opened and Henriette disajopeared. 



833 


r 


CHAPTER XYI. 


What was taking place in the heart of 
V andelle ? Did jealous3^ alone hold him ? 
Did he think only of his outraged honor ? 
r Or indeed, at this moment, did Esther 
■ appear before him, provoking and su- 
perb, and cr3^ to him: “She has taken 
' my place, I wish to take her’s; I will 
be your wife. You have surprised 
‘ her in the very act, in the abode of her 
lover, and the law will absolve you if 
: youkillher. Killher!” We will not settle 
; this question; we will onH follow Yan- 
i delle. 

He, leaving his hiding place, crossed 
the path which separated him from the 
pavilion and approached the door. But 
333 


't 


the shutters had been drawn and so he .. 
could not look in. | 

Then, holding his gun in his right | 
hand, resting the barrel on his left arm, i 
with a finger on the trigger, he slowly 
walked around the pavilion looking for i 
an open window. | 

Everything was closed. What should J 
he do? No. An outside shutter was only I 
half-closed. He approached it slowl}^ ^ 
and without noise swung it wide open, j 
He could see clearly now: her back ! 
was turned to him but she was there, 
standing near Olivier. 

Then, kneeling in the snow, he rested 
the barrel of his gun on the window-sill, 
took aim and fired. 



334 



CHAPTER XVII. 

Raynal, after having questioned sev- 
eral of the workmen at the faetory and 
having reeeived some information from 
Vandelle, returned, as you will remem- 
ber, to the village. 

He had to attend a dinner at Mon- 
sieur Foureanade’s, but preeisely at 
eight o’eloek he was at the mayorality 
and continued the inquest over the 
body of the man which had been found 
suspended in the Commune. 

Unhappily, the majority of the inhab- 
itants of G , summoned by him, did 

not appear disposed to facilitate his 
nocturnal labors; he was unable, when 


335 


once seated at his desk, to restrain him- 
self from making the following remark : 

^‘It must be acknowledged, Maj^or, 
that those under your jurisdiction do 
not seem in a hurry to assist me.’^ 

Good heavens ! ” replied Fourcanadc 
without appearing in the least annoyed, 
“the greater part of those under my 
jurisdiction are at the fair at Saint- 
Beat, and you know — ” 

“Yes,’^ continued Raynal, “I know 
that this inquest does not progress very 
rapidly. I have however allowed suf- 
ficient time for those, whom I wish to 
question, to unite here.” 

“I will at once send out the entire 
gendarmerie,^^ replied the mayor. 

“You call that a gen c/armer/e! There 
are two men here. Have you only two 
gendarmes in the Commune ! ” 

“Oh! they are enough,” murmured 


336 


Foiircanade, ^‘for people as easily gov- 
erned as sheep.” 

“Sheep whieh eommit erinies,” replied 
Raynal. 

“Crimes, they! But, my dear sir, this 
man is a suieide. You are making a 
good deal out of nothing.” 

“Mayor,” replied Raynal with sever- 
ity, “I alone am the judge of my eon- 
duct, and I can dispense with any com- 
ments from you. As to the cause of 
this man’s death, I will await the re- 
port of the surgeon before pronouncing 
my decision. Besides, should it only 
be a suicide, is that not a crime? ” 

Suddenly he stopped. 

“What is that noise?” he demanded. 

“What noise? ” 

“There, on this side.” 

“Ah! in the closet,” replied the may- 
or tranquilly. “It is nothing. They 
are fighting. 


337 


“ Who is fighting in the closet ? ” 

“The attributes of the mayorality. 
Flags of all colors and of all epochs. 
Phrygian caps, £eurs dt lys on board 
and on zinc, some old weather-cocks, 
some eagles, and above all a magnifi- 
cent collection of busts on plaques: 
Louis XYI, Marie Antoinette, Robes- 
pierre, Marat, the complete Directoire, 
then Bonaparte, Napoleon I, Louis 
XVIII, Charles X, Louis-Phillipe, Gen- 
eral Cavaignac, Prince Napoleon, Na- 
poleon III, Trochu, Jules Favre, 
Thierry — 

“Stop! stop!’’ cried Ra3mal, “I know 
my history. Why do you keep all that 
trash?” 

“To instruct the 3^oung men morall^^ 
and politically. Twice a month the 
school-teacher brings his class here; he 
opens the closet and says: “Dear pu- 
pils, this is the pantheon of our Com- 
338 


mime. Here are the glories of Franee. 
For these people here have been more or 
less deeoratecl by the name of savior, 
or well loved and — now they are 
obliged to hide in a eloset. Sic transit 
gloira nmndi. Their history teaehes 
you to beware of the popularitj^ and 
honors whieh eertainly await you in 
the world. But, at the same time re- 
speet all these plaeques, dust them with 
eare for we will need them some day. 
This old bust covered with cobwebs is 
perhaps destined to leave the closet and 
retake its place in the large room of the 
ma3^orality. The Commune is not rich; 
it cannot afford to buy new plaeques 
every two or three years; therefore it 
must content itself with the old ones. 
Happily, we possess a complete assort- 
ment. This little speech originated in 
my brain; I taught it to the different 


339 


scliool-teacliers and they repeat it to 
their pupils.’’ 

‘^Accept my compliments, Ma3'or, 3- on 
are a philosopher.” 

”In politics, I acknowledge, I have no 
passion, but in private life, in domestic 
life, I catch up. Ah ! the women ! ” 

‘^Take care. Mayor, 3^our secretary 
hears 3^ou.” 

“That don’t make an 3^ difference ; he 
knows me ! Ah ! I hear the gendarmerie. 

“That is lucky!” replied Ra3^- 
nal, regaining his solemn air. “I am 
now to gain the information I have 
been waiting for.” 

Then, addressing the gendarme who 
remained standing respectfully on the 
threshold, he said : 

“ Come closer.” 

The gendarme placed on the desk a 
package of letters which Raynal has- 
tened to open. 


340 


^‘No trace of blows or wotinds/^ mur- 
in tired he, his eyes fixed on the re- 
IDort of the surgeon, ‘‘no violence. This 
death can only be attributed to a 
suicide.’’ 

“What did I tell 3^011!” cried Four- 
canade triumphantly'. 

Raynal arose, dignified and cold, and 
approaching his clerk said : 

“Add this, I beg of you, to y^our case, 
and let us go. It was not worth the 
trouble it caused me,” he could not 
help adding. 

“But it was not me who called you, 
Solicitor-General,” replied the Mayor; 
“it was y^ou who wished to come. 
There is nothing for y'ou to do in my 
Commune. I repeat : all are honest peo- 
ple, really sheep.” 

Just as he was saying this, a detona- 
tion was heard in the distance. 

“What was that?” demanded Ray- 


341 


nal lifting his head quickly. -‘"A gun- 
shot!’^ 

“In the direction of the chateau,” 
added the mayor astonished. “Nobody 
hunts at such an hour ! ” 

“It is a murder then! ” cried Raynal. 

And, addressing the gendarmes^ he 
added : 

“Run, run quickly!” Then, turning 
towards Fourcanade, he said ironi- 
cally : 

“Eh! eh! Mayor, this model Com- 
mune, these sheep ! ” 

“Good Heavens!” replied the un- 
happy Fourcanade, this time worried, 
“it is perhaps an accident, a simple ac- 
cident. Some hunter who discharged 
his gun on entering his home.” 

“At ten o’clock in the evening, in win- 
ter? Enough to frighten the entire com- 
munity,” replied Raynal. “If it was, 
you should have already drawn up a 


342 


report against this hunter. But some- 
thing tells me this is a more serious 
affair. What is that murmur ? 




CHAPTER XVni. 


The village of G seemed indeed to 

have awakened in an instant from its 
torpor. This detonation bursting sud- 
denly on the still air of the winter’s 
night, when all sounds become more dis- 
tinct, had caused much excitement 
among the inhabitants. All those who 
were not already in bed, had at once 
left their homes and run to the village 
square. 

They were questioning, talking, dis- 
cussing, when a man, walking rapidly, 
crossed the square, passed near the 
different groups and entered the mayor- 
alty. 


344 


All had recognized him : it was the 
master of the chateau, the proprietor of 
the factory. It was Vandelle. 

Evidently he brought news. They fol- 
lowed him. But the curiosity of the 

inhabitants of G was disappointed. 

As soon as he had penetrated into the 
room where the Solicitor-General, his 
clerk, and the Mayor were assembled, he 
advanced toward Raynal and expressed 
the wish to be alone with him. 

“It is but just,” said Raynal, “that 
all these people should go. You also. 
Mayor ; ” and, added he, ironically : “I 
beg of you to watch your model Com- 
mune, while I occupy myself with the 
crimes they commit.” 

Fourcanade, w^ho was dreadfulh^ 
curious, nevertheless felt that he must 
obey, and went out, closing the door 
behind him. 

Vandelle remained alone with Raynal 


345 


and His clerk, who was arranging some 
papers on the desk. 

“You look quite undone, Monsieur 
Vandelle,^’ remarked Raynal as soon as 
the door was closed. “You are pale, 
you appear greatly agitated. Is it 
something very serious? Come, what 
have you to tell me ? 

“I have a confession to make.” 

“To the magistrate ? ” 

“Yes, to the magistrate.” 

“Ah! that is different.” 

Raynal made a sign to his clerk, who 
was about to follow the others, to 
remain, then seating himself at his desk 
and crossing his arms, he said : 

“Speak, sir.” 

“A murder has just been committed at 
my place,” began Yandelle. 

“A murder! a murder!” interrupted 
Raynal. “ Who has been murdered ? ” 

“My wife.” 


346 


What ! Madame Yandelle ! Explain 
quickly, sir. The magistrate should 
proceed with order and calmness, but 
the friend has a right to be moved. 
How! Madame Yandelle! Who do 3^ou 
suspect of having committed this 
crime? ” 

‘ ‘ Myself, ’ ^ murmured Y andelle in a low 
voice. 

‘‘ WHAT! ” cried Raynal springing to 
his feet. 

say that it is I who have killed my 
wife,’^ muttered Yandelle. 

^‘You! it is impossible ! Why? How?” 

He answered in a trembling voice, cast- 
ing troubled glances about the room : 

^ ‘ I was in love ! I was crazy ! Ah ! how 
she made me suffer ! ” 

^‘Madame Yandelle?” 

‘‘Eh? What? Madame Yandelle — ” 
said he astonished, as if it was not of 


347 


her that he had been speaking. He col- 
lected himself a little and continued : 

“It is right, you wish to know all. 
Well, a few months ago, I admitted into 
my house a young man, Olivier Des- 
champs, the friend and youthful com- 
rade of my wife, they were brought up to- 
gether. It was she — she who urged me 
to take him in, she made me believe — oh! 
I don’t know what! I have already 
told you that I was crazy.” 

“Go on,” said Raynal, “and get to 
the end. We will take up the details 
later. What happened this evening ? ” 
“This evening? This evening — I had 
a scene with her. She told me she was 
going away. I felt that I should lose 
her forever and as I have already told 
you, I love her, I worship her.” 

“Try to regain your usual calmness, 
sir. This evening you say, Madame 
Vandelle — ” 


348 


‘^Ah! yes. Aladame Vandelle crossed 
the salon where I was — she seemed to 
wish to pass unnoticed — she went into 
the park — I followed her — she went 
towards the pavilion occupied by Olivier 
Deschamps. I slipped behind a clump 
of shrubbery — she knocked at the door 
— Olivier opened it and she entered — 
They were side by side — they spoke low — 
then I remembered what she had said, 
what she had promised me — 1 cocked 
the gun which I carried in my hand — I 
fired — I heard a horrible cry — then I 
Bed and came hereto give myself up.” 

Raynal looked at the clerk who un- 
derstood the thought of his chief, and 
with his eyes designated a code which 
lay open on the desk. For these two 
men of law, the affair, as it presented 
itself, lost a great part of its gravity: 
Vandelle was protected by the penal 


349 


code under the article relating to justi- 
fiable acts. 

But his declaration was not sufficient. 
Raynal must make a thorough investi- 
gation and so he decided to go at once 
to the scene of the crime. 


350 


CHAPTER XIX. 


They set out on the road to the eha- 
teau with Raynal and his clerk leading ; 
the mayor came next accompanied 
his deputy, and Yandelle followed them, 
sad, downcast and unsteady. 

The gendarmes had been ordered to 
allow him his liberty, but to keep him 
in sight; they conscientiously fulfilled 
this duty, at the same time keeping the 

inhabitants of G , who were trying 

to mix in the procession, at a distance. 

There was something sinister in this 
long file of men, marching silently 
along the snow covered road this dark 
night. 

Several attempts of Fourcanade to 


351 


talk with Raynal had been useless ; the 
young magistrate, plunged in thought, 
was insensible to all advances made by 
the mayor. Two currents of thought, 
directly opposed to each other, were at 
this time running through his brain : 
the one — the magistrate, yet at the be- 
ginning of his career, delighted at being 
summoned to investigate an affair which 
would make him conspicuous, could not 
.help regretting that Yandelle, in the 
present case, was legally excusable ; the 
other — the honest, kind-hearted man, 
which is always to be found behind the 
French magistrate, was tempted to 
declare innocent one of his fellow beings, 
and to rejoice at meeting onl3^ an un- 
fortunate man where he had expected 
to find a criminal. 

When the party reached the park gate, 
they turned directly towards the pavil 
ion inhabited by Olivier Deschamps. 

353 


Some servants and workmen from 
the factory wandered aboutthe grounds 
or formed groups near the house. 
Great excitement reigned on all sides. 

While Vandelle remained near the half- 
open door, with gendarmes and the 

people of G , Raynal, followed by his 

clerk and the mayor, entered the room. 

A lamp an:l several logs, which had 
been thrown into the fire-place, scarcely 
sufficed to light the large room and to 
render visible the different persons who 
were present. 

At the end of the room, opposite the 
door, a group composed of Olivier Des- 
champs, some servants and a doctor, 
who had been hastily summoned from 
Montrejeau, stood around a lounge on 
which lay the victim of Vandelle. 

Raynal, after throwing a sharp glance 
on all sides, started towards the group, 
but Olivier met him half way. 

353 

23 


Yoti come no doubt, said he in an 
animated tone, “to bring the assassin 
into the presence of his victim ? ’’ 

“Sir,” responded the magistrate in a 
stern voice, “I warn you not to use 
epithets which I myself dare not use. 
The word assassin is entirely out of 
place in your mouth as you were the 
accomplice of this unfortunate woman, 
and as it was you who were the real 
cause of this terrible crime.” 

01ivier,becoming more master of him- 
self, and raising his voice so all could 
hear, replied : 

“Y^ou make a great mistake, sir, but 
a very natural one. Up to now 3^011 have 
only listened to Monsieur Vandelle — 
He thought he saw his wife leave the 
chateau and turn her steps towards 
this pavilion which I inhabit ; he imme- 
diately said to himself, without inquir- 
ing if she was not simply going to say 


354 . 


i^'oocl bj^eto her childhood’s companion, 
who was leaving the next day: She is 
guilty ; I will kill her. Kill her to regain 
my liberty" and to live with the woman I 
love. He remembered neither the hon- 
(isty or the parity of his wife, which 
should have preserved her from all sus- 
picion, nor her personal wrongs which 
should have sufficed to prove her inno- 
cent, but having made up his mind, with- 
out anger perhaps, certainly without 
jealous}^, he became an assassin ! ” 

Raynal, in his turn, raised his voice 
and said : 

‘‘I repeat to you, sir, that you have 
not the right to be so severe on him 
whom you have wronged. The role of 
accuser does not belong to you. 

“So be it,” replied Olivier. “I will 
accuse no longer; it is she who will 
accuse.” 

He turned, and going to the group in 


355 


the corner of the room, seized by the arm 
a person kneeling before the lounge, 
dragged her to Vandelle’s side, and 
placing her in front of him, cried : 

“ Look, murderer ! ” 

Vandelle gave a cry of terror. Henri- 
ette, whom he thought he had killed, 
stood like a specter before him. 



356 




CHAPTER XX. 


The young magistrate, in spite of his 
efforts not to appear surprised at any- 
thing, could not in this case, dissimulate 
his astonishment. 

“But then,^^ said he, pointing to Hen- 
riette Vandelle, “Madame wasnothere, 
when — 

“Madame,” replied Olivier interrupt- 
ing him, “was in her room when the 
shot was fired. Her servants found her 
there and told her of the crime; she fol- 
lowed them here that she might lend her 
assistance.” 

“Who, then, is the victim,” asked 
Raynal. 

“It is Claire Meunicr,” rCvSpoJided 


357 


Olivier, “or rather Esther Sandraz, the 
former mistress of Vandelle! Yes, she 
whom he had abandoned and betrayed, 
had introduced herself into his house in 
the qiialit3^ of a companion and under a 
false name. She wished to revenge her- 
self onVandelle,tomakehim suffer, forhe 
loved her, he always loved her. Perhaps 
she also still loved him and dreamt of 
driving away the legitimate wife and 
taking her place; but, vanquished by 
Madame Yandelle^s straightforward- 
ness, frankness and kindness, she re- 
nounced her purpose and appreciated 
the enormity of the crime she had 
contemplated committing. This even- 
ing, knowing that I was going awa^^ 
and fearing that Henriette, my friend 
from infancy, my sister, would wish to 
say good bye to me, also fearing lest Van- 
delle should surprise her, she decided to 
warn me. Misled by a cloak, which she 


358 


had found in the vestibule and had 
hastily thrown about her, Vandelle took 
her for his wife, followed her to this 
pavilion, and while she was speaking, 
with me, confessing her faults, while she 
asked pardon from God, he cowardly 
shot her.’’ 

“Is she dead ? ” asked Raynal. 

“No, but the doctor despairs of sav- 
ing her, and she has not been conscious 
for an hour.” 

“Then it is a crime. At last I have a 
crime!” the young magistrate could 
not help muttering. 

At the same time he approached the 
gendarmes and ordered them in a low 
tone to arrest the murderer. 


359 


CHAPTER XXI. 

Vandelle without doubt understood 
this order of Raynars, for when the 
gendarmes started tOvSeize him, he made 
a bound baekwards, leaped over the 
threshold of the door, pushed aside the 
crowd standing in front of the pavilion, 
darted into the park and, protected by 
the night, disappeared. 

Then, with a unanimous and sponta- 
neous movement, the villagers and the 
servants started in pursuit of the fugi- 
tive. Man has naturally the instincts 
of a hunter, he shows it from the time 
of birth ; he runs after all that tries to 
escape. He remembers the time when, 
naked, without arms, deprived of every- 


360 


thing, he struggled with agility against 
the animals necessary for his support. 
Today he no longer hunts game, but, 
carried away by an irrestible impulse, 
he joins in the pursuit of his fellow 
brings whenever an occasion presents 
itself. If, in our streets, a man starts to 
run, immediately ten, twenty or thirty 
persons whose number continually in- 
creases, run after him, without knowing 
wh\% from need of the exercise, from the 
instinct of the hunter. 

But, in following their natural inclina- 
tion, the inhabitants of Montrejeau sub- 
mitted likewise to other influences: 
Vandelle was not popular. They had 
found him indifferent to the interests of 
the Commune, never willing to assist 
them, but, on the contrary always harsh 
and violent ; they were angry with him 
because he had always disdained his 
birth-place and when he did return, had 


361 


cast ofif all the old familiar deeds of his 
father. Henriette, on the contrary, was 
adored by all ; they had seen her grow np 
and had always found her kind and 
charitable. 

And it was the child of the country, 
she whom the old guides had often car- 
ried over the mountains, she whom the 
peasants were aceustomed to see at 
church, that her husband had tried to kill 
and who had escaped by a miracle. They 
cried for vengeance, they desired to pun- 
ish Yandelle for his misdeeds, for his 
cruelty, and they chased him furiously 
and untiringly. 

But the night was dark ; he had dis- 
appeared. Then they resorted to lan- 
terns, lit the pine torches used by moun- 
taineers, and dispersing on all sides en- 
deavored to form a circle around the fugi- 
tive; a regular battle was organized. 
The village drummer joined th^e party 


362 


and added to the din with long rolls on 
his drum; the ehurch sexton, awakened 
suddenly b3^ the cries and thinking that 
it was a fire, rang the bell furiously. 
This man-hunt in the snow of this dark 
night, lit up only by the flickering light 
cast by the lanterns and torches, was 
dismally picturesque. 

In the large room of the Louis XIII 
pavilion, Henriette on her knees, pra^^ed 
by the side of Esther Sandraz. 



363 


CHAPTER XXII. 


Vandclle could no longer be seen. 
Had he taken refuge in a path known 
only to himself? Was he trying to 
reach the first chain of mountains? 
Was he going to escape his pursuers ? 

They were becoming discouraged 
when loud cries were heard from near 
the railroad station at Montrejeau. It 
was the employees of the railroad sig- 
nalling to those in the suburbs. 

They ran from all sides; the circle 
grew narrow; Yandelle was being hem- 
med in. He could no longer turn in 
any direction without encountering an 
enemy, and the liglit of the torches, 


364 


uniting at one point, made him plainly 
visible. 

He appeared in hunting costume; 
his massive shoulders, thrown back, 
pushing his way powerfully through the 
snow, running always straight ahead. 

He seemed exhausted, and, at times, 
they could see his knees shake. Those 
near whom he passed and who dared 
not stop him in his flight, said the next 
day that they had heard him pant, that 
his breath was short, that while run- 
ning, he gesticulated, talked aloud and 
cried like a madman. 

Perhaps he had gone mad, after all 
the emotion of this night, tracked and 
pursued like a wild beast, and with this 
fixed idea that he was the murderer of 
Esther: Esther whom he adored. 

Suddenly, just as a fool stops his 
walk and retraces his steps, he stopped 


865 


brusquely and cast anxious glances 
about him. 

He could have been captured then, 
but nobody was courageous enough, as 
he still appeared full of strength and 
energy. On the contrary the circle grew 
wider. All the men united, armed with 
guns, clubs or long iron-pointed staves, 
were afraid of this unarmed man. 

He looked towards the chateau ; he 
tried no doubt to distinguish in the 
dark night the pavilion where Esther 
was dying. Perhaps he thought of 
bursting through the crowd which sur- 
rounded him, of returning home, of going 
back to the room where Esther was and 
seeing her again for the last time, of 
dying near her. 

But the crowd became more compact ; 
all those at a distance had drawn near. 
The timid grew brave near the more 
courageous; the mountain guides, those 


366 


men insensible of all danger, advaneed 
in little groups, step by step, one be- 
hind another, without haste but fear- 
lessly, just as they make perilous aseen- 
sions. 

He had a moment of reason : he un- 
derstood that they were trying to eap- 
ture him, to deliver him up to justiee as 
an assassin, that he would not be per- 
mitted to approaeh Esther, and that 
he would make a useless struggle. So 
he turned and eontinued his flight, this 
time towards the river. 


367 


CHAPTER XXIIl. 


Vandelle now followed the road lead- 
ing from the railway station to the 
bridge of Montrejeau. Whether he was 
resolved to flee ^nd to brave all dangers 
to sueeeed, or whether, suieide appear- 
ing the only refuge, he wished to die at 
onee, he ran more swiftly and more 
vigorously than ever, without looking 
behind him or paying any attention to 
the shouts of his pursuers. Soon he 
reached the bridge, but he did not run 
across its entire length. 

A large part of the population of 
Montrejeau, awakened by the noise, 
had left the village and turned towards 
the bridge and they formed at one end 


368 


of it a compact mass through which 
the fugitive could not break. 

On looking back, he also saw that he 
could not retrace his steps: all those 
who had pursued him, up to that point, 
were united in one large group at the 
western extremity of the bridge. 

He discovered that he was indeed 
hemmed in; beneath him flowed the 
Garonne; behind and before him was 
hostile, threatening crowd. 

Then, tracked on all sides, discouraged, 
crazy perhaps, he turned towards the 
parapet of the bridge, climbed on to it, 
and after casting one lingering glance 
toward the horizon, jumped into the 
water below. 




24 . 


369 


CHAPTER XXIY. 


The next day, at dawn, his body was 
fonnd two kilometers below Montrejeau ; 
all night the current had rolled him 
over the stones, hurled him against 
the rocks and crushed him in its 
course. 

Raynal, accompanied by the mayor 
and his two gendarmes^ came to iden- 
tify the body. This task accomplished, 
the young magistrate was heard to 
mutter these words: ‘T have finally 
dicovered a crime, but I no longer have 
a criminal. ” 

During the day, a surgeon from Tou- 
louse, summoned by telegraph, after 
having carefully examined the wounds 
370 


of Esther Sandraz, declared it possible 
to save her. 

This hope was not unfounded. Sur- 
gical science gained a new victory: 
today Esther is well. 

It was Henriette who nursed her with 
the greatest devotion, like a true sister 
of charity. But she was not satisfied 
with curing the body, she wished also 
to purify the soul, and it is safe to say 

that she succeeded. 

* * * * * 

In the elections on May l6th fol- 
lowing, Fourcanade, thanks to his able 
campaign, was able to elect the official 
candidate. But, his deputy having be- 
come an invalid, all his sympathies 
were instantly turned to the republican 
recommended by the new prefect, and 
after a game of dominoes, he gained a 
new political victory. 

It is probable he, always firm in his 


371 


I 

/ - 7 -- ^ 

' // 

0 " 

ability", catering to all governments, 
eternally decorated in his old sash, 
will, in a few months, marry Olivier 
Deschamps to Henriette Yandelle, nee ^ 
de Loustal. 


THE END. 


372 





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